


sting like a bee

by reaching_my_summit



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Andrew is a disaster gay, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bee is the greatest mother alive, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Abuse, Gun Violence, I'm really not sorry, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Neil has no idea what he's doing, Renee is the greatest wingman alive, There is no Drake! Nora is Cancelled, These boys deserve the world and I will give it to them, Ya'll want twinyards, and lots of kissing, emo andrew minyard, scene aaron minyard, you got it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 06:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17278637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reaching_my_summit/pseuds/reaching_my_summit
Summary: At the age of six, Nathaniel Wesninski and Andrew Doe find out that they both have a soulmate.Or, an AU where writing on your skin also appears on the skin of your soulmate.





	1. caterpillar

**Author's Note:**

> based off art by one of my favorite AFTG artists, aymmidumps!  
> http://aymmidumps.tumblr.com/post/181564465927/andreil-soulmates-identifying-marks-au

Andrew Doe was the smartest six year old in his first-grade class. The teacher said he had very neat handwriting and she was so proud that he could already read at the fourth-grade level. So proud, in fact, that she nominated him for the Student of the Month award.

 

“Now Andrew,” Ms. Dobson said. “We will have a ceremony after school this Thursday to present the awards. I know your guardians will be at work then, so I can take you to the event and get you home,” she smiled. “Remember to tell them, okay?”

 

Andrew nodded. He never forgot anything. “Thank you, Ms. Dobson.”

 

He wished Ms. Dobson was his mother. She was so kind and had bumblebee earrings that she wore every day. Andrew loved learning about insects, and bees were by far the most fascinating to him. “Write it down on your hand so you don’t forget,” she suggested, handing him a red pen. Andrew didn’t want to argue with her, so he simply wrote _bee_ on his palm.

 

-

 

“Brandy, did you know that bees never sleep? They also have five whole entire eyes. That is three more than I have,” Andrew said, twirling his spaghetti around on his fork.

 

His foster mother looked up from their dinner at him. “That’s cool, Andrew,” she nodded. “What happened at school today?”

 

“Brandy, Ms. Dobson is making me Student of the Month on Thursday after school. She told me to tell you that she can bring me home, and if you have any questions, you can call the office lady at my school. The number is 510-423-8679.” He dared to look a little hopeful. Maybe his foster parents would be proud enough of him to keep him. This was the fourth family he had been with, and he was tired of having to move schools. He did not want to leave Ms. Bee.

 

“Student of the Month, huh?” Brandy asked. She pursed her lips and cocked her head to one side before finishing off a glass of her adult grape juice. Andrew did not know why grape juice was different for kids and adults, but he would look it up one day at the library. “Well, congratulations. What did you do to get that?”

 

Andrew paused for a moment. It was not nice to brag, so he just repeated what Ms. Dobson told him. “I can read the fourth-grader’s books, and my handwriting is nice. That is what my teacher said,” he explained. He nervously let his feet swing from his chair as he waited on a response.

 

“I’m proud of you, then, Andrew,” Brandy smiled. She got up from her chair and leaned over to pat Andrew’s shoulder. “You are a very smart young man.”

 

\---

 

Nathaniel Wesninski plopped down onto the court floor with a frown. One of the other backliners had accidentally hit him with a racquet and scraped the back of his arm. It hurt, but he did not allow himself to cry. If his father found out, he would only make Nathaniel cry more. He brought his hand up to the wound and pressed his fingers to it. He was not bleeding much. _Just a scratch,_ he reassured himself. Checking his fingertips for blood revealed something else, instead. The word _bee_ had appeared on his palm in small, round letters.

 

His mother ran out onto the court after the whistle blew to scoop him up into her arms and check on him. “Are you alright, Sweetheart?” she asked.

 

Nathaniel curled his palm back up and nodded to his mother. “I just need a plaster.”

 

“Let me see.”

 

-

 

That night, Mary tucked Nathaniel into bed, as she always did. She sat beside him and finished reading _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_ to him for their bedtime story. The topic of insects made him think about the word that had appeared on his hand today. _Bee._ “Mommy. Today, I looked at my hand, and there was a word there. I didn’t write it.”

 

Mary closed the book and pressed her lips into a thin line. “Nathaniel, Love,” she started after a moment. “I never wanted to have to explain this to you.”

 

Nathaniel looked up at his mother and furrowed his eyebrows. “Explain what? Don’t be sad, Mommy. It was just a bug. Nothing mean.”

 

“A bug,” Mary repeated. She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Many people think that the person you are supposed to fall in love with one day is connected to you in a certain way. If they write something on their skin, whatever they write will appear in the same place on someone else's body. The person their writing appears on is called a soulmate.”

 

Nathaniel blinked. A soulmate. Maybe his special person liked bees a lot. “Is Father your soulmate, Mommy?”

 

Mary almost winced. “Yes, Darling. He is. He does not write things often, though. Not anymore.” She hesitated once more before taking his hand in her own to run her thumb over the smooth skin of his palm, just over the word. “Sometimes, soulmates are not good for you. I do not want you to talk to them if they try to talk to you, okay? It is best just to talk to Mommy, Daddy, and our friends.”

 

“Mommy, Daddy, and their friends.” Nathaniel took his hand back from his mother and rubbed at the letters to see if they would fade away. If anything, they looked more angry and red. “Okay. Goodnight kiss?”

 

“Goodnight kiss.” Mary sighed in relief and pressed her lips to her son’s forehead. “Get some rest. You have lessons tomorrow starting at 9:00.”

 

-

 

Later, when his mother had left and he was sure he was the only one awake, Nathaniel dug a blue marker out of his pencil case and wrote the word _caterpillar_ on his upper thigh where no one but him could see. He did not like disobeying his mommy, but he did not like the idea of ignoring someone who loved him, either.

 

\---

 

After the school day was over, but before the special ceremony, Andrew walked up to Ms. Dobson’s desk and gently tapped on its surface. “Ms. Bee, there is a word written on my leg that I did not put there. It will not wash off. Did I get a tattoo?” He asked.

 

Ms. Dobson chuckled at him and gestured to the small chair next to her own. Andrew sat down in it and took a pen off her desk to fiddle with. “Well, Andrew. I am excited to hear that you got your first word,” she smiled. “Someone who will love you very much one day wrote that word on their body. When they write on their own skin, what they write will appear on you in the very same place.”

 

“Someone who will love me very much?” Andrew asked, pulling up the leg of his shorts to see his word, now slightly smudged. “Whoever it is likes insects as much as I do, I think.”

 

“That person is called your soulmate,” Ms. Dobson explained. Andrew nodded his understanding and went back to shaking the pen in his hand to make the pom-pom on top bounce around.

 

“Now, let’s go get your award, shall we?”

 

\---

 

_Hi._

 

_hi_

 

_My teacher said that you are my soulmate._

 

_my mommy said that you are mine_

 

_What is your name?_

 

_nathaniel_

 

_My name is Andrew._

 

_andrew, can you wash off so that my mommy doesn't see_

 

_Yes_

 

_thank you_

 

_Can I still talk to you?_

 

_yes please!_

 

_How old are you? I am six_

 

_i just turned six too_

 

\---

 

Over the course of a few months, Andrew and Nathaniel learn a lot about each other. Andrew learned that Nathaniel lived in Baltimore. Nathaniel that Andrew lived in Oakland. Nathaniel looked those places up on a map, and they are very far apart. Andrew liked dinosaurs and insects. Nathaniel liked Exy. Andrew does not like mean people. Nathaniel's father was very mean. Andrew especially does not like Nathaniel's father.

 

Andrew’s foster father knocked on the bathroom door and pushed it open to see Andrew washing neat little words off his thigh. “Dinner is ready, Andrew.”

 

“I will be down soon.”

 

Everyone remembered their first words. He stepped a little closer to look at them and smiled in fond remembrance, but before he turned away, he saw the word _nathaniel._ The lookon his face hardened. So his foster child is going to turn out to be _queer_ one day?

 

Not if he can help it.

 

\---

 

Andrew did not like his foster father. He was a very big meanie.

He said that he hurt Andrew because he loved Andrew, but that did not make any sense.

Andrew decided to tell the only person he trusted that his foster father was hurting him.

He told Ms. Bee.

 

-

 

Within a week, the police came to find Andrew’s foster father and took him to jail. He stayed with Brandy until Ms. Bee’s fostering license was approved. She took him in and told him that she would like to be his real mother someday.

 

\---

 

_My old dad got taken to jail._

 

 _that is good. i_ _wanted to punch his big stupid head_

 

_I have a new mother. She makes me happy_

 

_i am happy that i have my mommy and you_

 

_Maybe your dad will go to jail for being mean, too._

 

\---

 

Nathaniel was not careful enough.

 

He left blue smudges on his skin from his favorite marker. His father saw.

 

Now his skin is purple and yellow and blue on the thigh where his words always sit.

 

He did not talk to Andrew for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will loosely follow their childhoods up until they meet! let me know what you guys think!  
> tumblr: reaching-my-summit


	2. butthead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big warning for violence in this chapter. if you read aftg, you are hopefully used to that, though.

Andrew slumped at the kitchen table while he finished his Cocoa Pebbles cereal. He stirred around the stray bits of cereal he hadn’t eaten yet with a quiet huff. There was a news story on the television about two soulmates. One of them had written their telephone number on their hand and the other had called them only to find out that they were next-door neighbors. Andrew’s neighbor was named Liam. He was not Nathaniel.

 

Andrew decided that soulmates were stupid. He wanted to write a mean word like _butthead_ on his thigh, but he did not want to break again. The temptation to write first had already come over him three times, and for each of those times, he received no answer. It had been over a year since Nathaniel had written to Andrew. He wondered if Nathaniel was dead. Was there a way to tell? Would he get a new soulmate if Nathaniel did die, or would he be alone?

 

“Andrew, get your shoes on for school! We are leaving in five minutes,” Bee called down the stairs.

 

-

 

Tapping sounds filled the silence of the car ride to school as Andrew hit the toes of his red Converse together. Bee easily caught on to his brooding and decided to question him.

 

“Andrew, what’s on your mind?” She asked. Andrew sank lower into his seat in response.

Naturally, she prodded further. “Do you want me to leave it alone?”

 

“My soulmate won’t answer me anymore. He is a butthead and I hate him.” Crossing his arms and looking out the window instead of looking down at himself made Andrew feel a little less small. “His father is a bad person. How do I know that he is okay if he will not answer me?”

 

Bee reached over and hovered a hand over his shoulder. Andrew pulled her hand down to let it rest there and she gave him a soft squeeze. “I know it sounds silly, but some people do not like it when they find out that…” Bee paused and tried to gather herself. There really was not a great way to explain this to an eight-year-old. “Your soulmate is a boy, from what you can gather. So are you. Many people do not like it when boys are soulmates like that because it is fairly rare. People do not understand it. Nathaniel’s parents might not want him to talk to you.”

 

Now Andrew really wanted to punch Nathaniel’s father’s stupid head. “Bee, excuse my potty mouth, but anyone who thinks that is a big, huge ass.” He frowned. “Soulmates can’t be wrong, otherwise they wouldn’t be soulmates.”

 

\---

 

Nathaniel sat up straight at the dining room table while he finished the scrambled eggs his mother had made for him that morning. She had already kissed him goodbye and headed out for the day, leaving him to his lessons with one of his father's deadliest investments, Lola Malcolm. She must have been skulking in the doorway, because as soon as he took his last bite of eggs, she was at his side.

 

“Finish your OJ, Junior. Are you in the clothes your father’s bitch laid out for you?” Lola hummed, picking up his fork and running her thumb over the prongs.

 

Nathaniel did not like it when Lola called his mother that mean word, but he nodded and turned up the glass to swallow the remainder of his juice. Calmly standing, he pushed in his chair and gathered his dirty dishes to deposit them in the sink.

 

Lola walked up behind him and wrapped her hand around his throat. Nathaniel tensed but made no effort to remove himself from her grasp. “Get your knife set from your room and meet me in the basement. If you are a second past nine o'clock, you will not be happy. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes,” Nathaniel said, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. He wondered what animals were downstairs that day.

 

“I want to hear you say that you _understand._ ” Lola’s voice was a low growl in his ear. He tried to remember his mother’s warnings. _Just do what she says, Nathaniel. I know you do not like it, but I do not want you to get hurt. Stay strong, my love._

 

 _Stay strong._ “I understand.”

 

-

 

It was a fox that day. He was to learn to skin it.

 

Nathaniel slipped his hands into his leather gloves and carefully popped open the lock on the case that contained his knives, all perfectly disinfected and snugly nestled in protective foam. He picked up a small one and held it up to the fluorescents on the ceiling, noting the way the light glinted off its surface. Lola must have approved of his choice because she lifted two carcasses up by their tails and slammed them onto the workbench in front of him. Judging from their withered appearance, they had already been drained of their blood and washed. He was thankful for that much.

 

“One for me, one for you. How fun,” Lola giggled. Her laugh wasn't what a laugh should be. It was twisted and sharp, just like her blades. “We start with the paws. Here, under the skin, just by the pad of its foot…”

 

The wet sound of a knife piercing the animal’s flesh made Nathaniel’s head feel fuzzy, but he tracked the knife with his stare nonetheless. Lola slid the metal up the back of the fox’s leg up until she reached the point where its leg met its torso, keeping her blade tucked under the skin. “We only want to cut the membrane that binds the skin to the muscles. If your knife ever tugs too much, sharpen it again.”

 

-

 

Nathaniel accidentally cut through too far on the underbelly and ruptured one of the fox’s internal organs. He closed his eyes and put his knife down before removing his gloves.

 

“You know the rules, Junior. Eye for an eye.” Lola selected a new knife from Nathaniel’s kit and held it up in front of his face. “Lift up your shirt. You should know better than to ruin such a nice fur. Your father paid good money for that.”

 

Nathaniel inhaled slowly and curled his hands into fists at his sides. One of his father's men could walk into the forest in their backyard and easily find a fox. Lola was simply being cruel. “He is rich. He can afford it.”

 

“Ah,” Lola grinned fiercely. “There’s your father’s temper. It is not fitting for an insolent child.” She pressed the flat side of the blade to his stomach. “You know that your father wants you to be good with knives. If you cannot use them properly, you will get hurt, won't you, Junior? You won't be a fitting heir if you can so easily be thrown face down in a gutter to bleed like a stuck pig."

 

Eye for an eye.

 

\---

 

Nathan Wesninski descended the spiral staircase of his home in navy blue slacks and brown dress shoes. A crisp, white dress shirt was thrown over his arm. His son was playing with two little toy cars on the floor in front of the last step, too busy making the ridiculously-colored things zoom around on the marble floors to acknowledge his father’s presence. That was his first mistake.

 

“Oh, Junior. You know better than to sit in my company. You will stand.”

 

Nathaniel flinched at the sound of his father’s voice and quickly got to his feet. He turned on his heel and kept his eyes on the ground. “I’m sorry, Father. I should have been playing in my bedroom,” he mumbled. “I should not have been making silly noises.”

 

Surging forward, Nathan took his son by the wrist and pulled him upward by the arm until Nathaniel could hardly keep his toes on the ground. “You will speak clearly and concisely to me or you will not speak to me at all. Try it again. Good children are meant to be seen and not heard. Good children do not get in the way.”

 

Nathaniel blinked back the tears welling in his eyes from the pain stabbing through his shoulder blade and willed his voice not to waver this time. “I’m sorry, Father. Good children are meant to be seen and not heard. Good children do not get in the way.”

 

When Nathan released his son from his iron grip, he toed at one of the toys and crushed it underfoot. One wheel shot out from the body of the car and skittered out of sight. “Find that wheel and clean this mess up immediately.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Nathaniel nodded, making sure he sounded strong enough this time. He bowed slightly to his father before going to find a broom from the kitchen closet. His father was not far behind him, and Nathaniel worried about being hurt again but Nathan made a detour into the laundry room to shove the dress shirt he carried into his wife’s hands.

 

“This is unacceptable. The dry cleaners fucked up another one of my shirts. Iron it properly, since they are incapable of doing so,” Nathan spat. “The benefit dinner starts in two hours. Guests will be arriving here in an hour. If my son is not ready on time, it is on you.”

 

“Yes, Nathan. I will get it done,” Mary sighed. “Did you want me in the white or blue gown tonight?”

 

Nathan considered his wife for a moment as she plugged the iron in and and spent a few seconds arranging his shirt across the ironing board. “Blue. People will be looking at you, and the white one makes you look like a whore.” He stepped forward to tangle his fingers into her hair and hold her in some twisted form of possession. “Three-inch heels. No more, no less. Hair in a topknot. Gold jewelry to match my belt.”

 

Nathaniel walked into the laundry room to empty the dustpan filled with demolished race car parts into the trash bin. When Nathan turned to leave the room, he did so too quickly and kicked the bristles of the broom Nathaniel had propped against the doorway. The wooden arm of the broom snapped forward and struck Nathan across the cheek.

 

That would not do. Nathaniel had made one mistake already. Two was inexcusable.

 

“What did I say, you little shit?” Nathan seethed, grabbing the broom and tossing it to the side. “What did I _fucking_ _say?”_

 

Nathaniel crumpled under his father’s gaze and desperately tried not to panic. “Good children,” He choked out. “Good children are seen and not heard. Good Children--”

 

Nathan ripped the iron from Mary's hands and pressed it to his son’s shoulder.

 

-

 

Mary was permitted to applied burn cream to Nathaniel's wound and give him some ibuprofen, but that was it. Her first priority was to attend to Nathan, after all, and that meant faking smiles at the benefit and making excuses for her son when their business partners and friends asked about him. _Oh, he has a cold. You know how kids are, always catching something._

 

Her heart broke for her son. Not only had Nathan literally scarred him for life, but he had also sent him to bed without dinner, told him to fully tidy, dust, and vacuum his room, and left him alone, on top of it all.

 

Nathaniel wanted to disappear. The incessant white-hot sting and bone-deep ache in his arm where his skin was raw and bubbling made it impossible to think. All he could see the way his skin peeled off and stuck to the metal plate of the iron. Every time he looked down at his shoulder, another wave of panic washed through him. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath until his body took over and forced him to take another in order to pull him from another bout of hyperventilating.

 

Once he had steadied himself, he took the disinfecting wipes from his closet and began to scrub at crayon, pen, and marker stains that had strayed or bled onto his desk. The marks came off with more ease than he expected.

 

That gave him an idea.

 

He finished cleaning his room like his father ordered and crawled under the blankets on his bed, marker, wipes, and flashlight in hand. Turning on the flashlight and angling it properly took a while when he had to keep his burn from brushing against the sheets, but he managed after a few moments of shuffling about. Uncapping the marker felt like salvation. He pressed the felt tip to the back of his hand and wrote one word:

 

_andrew_

 

\---

 

“I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer…” Andrew read out loud. He closed his copy of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ and looked up at Bee. “This has been my favorite book so far.”

 

“There are six more,” Bee said, raising an eyebrow. “You were supposed to get them for your ninth birthday, but...I suppose I could give them to you a little earlier since you liked the first so much,” she shrugged.

 

Andrew hummed in response and ran his fingers over the spine of the book in his hand. “I do not mean to sound greedy, but I would like that very much.”

 

“May I touch your face with my hand, Andrew?” Bee asked. Andrew nodded his consent and she brushed a thumb over his cheek. His hand moved to rest on top of hers, keeping it in place. “I will give you the second one tomorrow.”

 

“Thank you, Bee.”

 

“Of course.” Bee stood from the chair at the side of Andrew’s bed and pushed it back to the corner of his bedroom. She paused at the door to wave at him and noticed something forming across the back of his hand. “I believe you have another early birthday present, Andrew. Your soulmate has written you a message.”

 

\---

 

_Butthead._

 

_are you mad at me too_

 

_Where were you?_

 

_my father told me not to talk to you_

 

_Then why are you?_

 

_i want to. i missed you_

 

_Butthead_

_Are you okay?_

 

_not really. he burnt me_

 

_I will kick him._

 

_he is very strong_

_don’t want you to get hurt_

 

_I won’t._

 

_how do you know?_

 

_I read Harry Potter._

_It said that love is the most powerful thing_

_and that evil people do not understand it._

 

_does that mean you love me_

 

_I am supposed to someday._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: autumn you are only going to make this au 3000 words maximum  
> me: Does Not Do That
> 
> hope you enjoyed! comment if you enjoyed this utter bullshit i guess and let me know if you're happy with how its going! im thinking more badass neil. (and don't worry--we are not losing bitchy andrew.)
> 
> tumblr: reaching-my-summit


	3. freckles

“Nathaniel. Nathaniel, wake up.”

 

Nathaniel rubbed at his sleep-crusted eyes and blearily looked over at the clock. “Mommy, it’s so early. What is it?” He asked, sitting up in bed and wavering for a moment before she clamped a hand over his mouth.

 

“Do not say another word. You need to listen to me and do exactly as I say. There is a car waiting to at the end of our driveway. In fifteen minutes, I need you to meet me in the basement. We are going to go through the tunnels underneath the house together until we make it outside. If I tell you to run, you will run. Is that clear, Nathaniel?” Mary asked.

 

Nathaniel was so tired and so confused. He tried to ask a question, but that hand pressing against his lips only pressed harder, so he closed his eyes and nodded. Fifteen minutes.

 

Mary exhaled slowly and bit her lip. Something must be very wrong, Nathaniel thought. It was not like his mother to ever act this way. He did not think he had ever seen her this scared before. “There is a bag already packed for you. Change into your play clothes and sneakers. You will not need to bring anything else.” She released her grip on his face and kissed his forehead.

 

“What about my exy game tomorrow?” Nathaniel whispered. He had been looking forward to playing with his friends Kevin, Riko, and Jean again. Riko was bossy and a bit of a meanie, but Kevin liked to talk about dinosaurs and bugs with him, and Jean smiled when Neil quietly _victory-danced_ after he made a proper assist on goal. Just earlier that day, he got to play with them.

 

Another not-so-nice thing happened after his game. Nathaniel was trying to forget about that. He was trying to convince himself that it was a very, very bad dream.

 

A sad smile crossed his mother’s face. “We will miss it, Sweetheart. I’m sorry. Now, get changed.” With that, Mary left the room, and Nathaniel quickly got up to make his bed and put his pajamas into his laundry hamper. He took clean clothes out of his dresser drawer and stared at them for a moment. The play shirt he picked was yellow and had a small bee in the center of the chest.

Andrew.

 

Nathaniel shot a glance over at his desk. He did not want to go without a marker, wherever he was, but he scrawled a message on his thigh just in case.

 

_i think i have to run away_

_to be safe_

_talk soon_

 

With the roll of tape from his desk, Nathaniel affixed his favorite blue marker to his upper thigh. He dressed quickly and tried not to think about what he was leaving behind. The rocket-ship shaped pillow on his bed, the cover of his favorite book about the little raccoon family, and the foam exy racquet in the corner of his room seemed brighter tonight despite the dark. It was almost as though they were about to catch fire and disintegrate.

 

\---

 

_Be safe._

_Or I will kick your butt._

 

\---

 

Alexandre Durand had to learn French because he was supposed to be French.

 

“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix,” he recited, pointing at one of the pages of the mathematics book his mother had bought for him. “Je vais mieux,” Alex hummed, looking to her for approval.

 

“Pas assez bon, mon tendre,” she shook her head. “Not good enough. You need to be able to properly pronounce, understand, and respond to everything on the list of phrases I gave you by the end of the week.”

 

Alexandre sighed and propped his elbows up on the table of the small restaurant they sat in. His mother’s new name was Jacqueline. They had to change their names and move far, far away from Baltimore to stay away from his father. Nathan was uninvolved at best and unimaginably cruel at worst, so Alexandrew wasn’t wholly upset about the move. He did miss his friends from his little league team, his friends from Evermore, and his soulmate. Andrew and Alexandre had not been able to speak for a month or so, save a few words here and there. If Jacqueline found his blue marker, she would not be happy with him. He did not want to make her more upset than she already was.

 

“Mère, puis-je… How do you say have? Ah, avoir un dessert? They have sorbet.” Alexandre looked up to his mother with hopeful eyes, but she shook her head in response.

 

“Pas ce soir, Alexandre. No sugar this late. You won’t be able to sleep,” Jacqueline explained. “You will need all the rest you can manage before it is your turn to keep watch.”

 

Alexandre sighed, but nodded his understanding. It had been a month now since they had left home, changed their names, and started working through a new city. He still did not sleep well. Nightmares of his father finding them and hurting them often plagued his mind until the early hours of the morning. His mother did not help, most of the time. She would hold him and tell him that his fear was good. That fear kept his senses sharp and his legs ready to run, and subsequently kept him alive. _That was what mattered_ , she said. They had to stay alive. Alexandre did not like facing death himself, but he had seen enough of it to understand that he did not want to go through it.

 

-

 

Nathaniel sat facing Kevin on the cold tile floor of the Moriyama’s penthouse. They were currently rolling a ball back and forth between themselves as they waited for Nathan, Kengo, and Tetsuji to appear. Riko had made up rules to Nathaniel and Kevin’s game and was keeping “score,” despite there being any concrete and discernible rules. Exceptions came up whenever Riko saw fit. Nathaniel just had a feeling that Riko did not want Kevin to win.

 

One of the Moriyama Suits walked over and stopped the ball with his foot just as Nathaniel made for his last push. “Stand. Lord Moriyama will be arriving shortly.”

 

The three boys scrambled to their feet and lined up at the window that looked out over Evermore’s court. Another Suit opened the door and the boys immediately bowed as the head of the Moriyama family, his brother, and their Right Hand entered the room and took their places at the wall opposite the overlook. The Malcolm siblings were not far behind, and DiMaccio, Nathan’s bodyguard, drug a stumbling and struggling man in behind him.

 

“We will be having a lesson today. Our Butcher will act as your teacher,” Tetsuji began. “You will be learning what happens when our Ravens can no longer fly. DiMaccio,” he hummed, nodding to the space in the center of the room. DiMaccio bowed at the order and gave the man a shove forward.

 

Kengo spoke next. “This young man was a former Raven, sold to us by his family to fulfill a debt. He was not careful enough on the court once he became a professional exy player and permanently damaged his arm,” he explained, then finally addressed the _Example_. “You will kneel to face our future Ravens, Samuel.”

 

Samuel let out a noise that sounded like sob and stood still for what must have been a moment too long. Lola Malcolm stepped forward and kicked the back of his knees so hard that they buckled underneath him. Nathaniel tried not to flinch. In his peripheral vision, even Riko was starting to look a little pale. Dull _thuds_ broke through the desperate, shallow breaths that echoed through the room. Nathan was rhythmically tapping the head of his favorite weapon on the tile.

 

“Do you know The Butcher of Baltimore, Boy?” Tetsuji asked, and on cue, Nathan stepped forward. “He is a very valuable asset to the Moriyama empire. His teaching style is more than effective, the success rates of his assigned tasks are near perfect, and his ability to cover his tracks is astounding. Are you familiar with what our Butcher does?”

 

Saying that Samuel was hysterical would be a severe understatement. Nathaniel had never heard anyone beg like that, and voices often carried from the basement and through his house. _Please don’t kill me! I can serve you in other ways. Fuck, I’ll never see my wife, my daughter--Please, God, Lord Moriyama, have mercy, I’m a father--_

 

Nathan’s icy growl cut through the groveling like a knife. “Say another word and we will cut out your tongue.”

 

Samuel immediately fell silent and bent forward so far that his forehead touched the floor.

  

Nathan moved to stand over Samuel from behind and wrapped a hand around his throat. He harshly pulled the _Investment_ upright and held the blade of his axe up to Samuel’s throat, testing to see just how sharp it was. One tiny movement of Nathan’s wrist had Samuel bleeding just underneath his jawline and gasping in pain from the rough edges of the metal.

 

“Do it slowly, Nathan,” Tetsuji commanded. “Take him apart piece by piece. Slice the tendons at his ankles so that he cannot stand again. Disappointments deserve to spend their last precious minutes in shame.”

 

Nathaniel wished he did not remember what happened next. He wished it was a bad dream.

 

-

 

Alexandre wished he would stop waking from bad dreams that were not dreams. He wished he could forget the red. The screams. The metal.

 

At least he would be alert for his watch.

 

His mother quickly fell asleep on their shared mattress, leaving him to curl up in the corner. She faced the door, her hand on the gun under her pillow. Once her breathing evened out, Alexandre dug around in his backpack and found his blue marker at the bottom of it, wrapped in a pair of socks. He needed someone right now. He hoped the time differences his mother had taught him about were working in his favor.

 

\---

 

Andrew was at the kitchen table reading through the directions on his science homework when he saw something blue curling around his thigh. If he wore shorts whenever he could just to make sure he did not miss anything from Nathaniel, only he had to know.

 

\---

 

_andrew_

 

_Are you okay, Nathaniel?_

 

_yeah, i am_

 

_Okay. Good._

_Why did you have to go?_

 

_my dad hurt someone_

_my mom took me away_

 

_Where did you go?_

_Are you close to California?_

 

_no_

_she took me to another continent_

 

_Oh._

_Will I ever get to meet you?_

 

_i wish we could meet_

_maybe one day things will be safe again_

 

_Maybe._

 

_what do you look like_

 

_Why?_

 

_i want to know_

 

_Fine._

_I have hazel eyes and blonde hair. It is curly._

_I have freckles. A lot of them._

_Now you._

 

_i don’t look like me right now_

_but right now_

_i have brown eyes and black hair_

_i wish i could say more_

_but i have to stay safe_

 

_-_

 

Alexandre quickly grabbed a baby wipe from his bag and wiped his leg down with it. He was being forced to keep _so many_ secrets, but Andrew was the one he wanted to keep the most.

 

-

 

When Andrew saw that Nathaniel’s words were disappearing, he quickly washed his own off, as well. It was tedious, but this was how they had managed to communicate for years without Nathaniel getting caught again. It was worth it, of course.

Andrew wanted to believe that soulmates did not exist, but every time he wrote to Nathaniel, he felt like he  _glowed._

 

-

 

_I do not understand._

_But I will try._

 

_i like freckles._

_i draw on mine sometimes._

 

_Draw a picture for me._

 

-

 

Andrew watched as a small heart formed on his arm, points of freckles that were not his own linking together small, jagged lines. He briefly wondered if Nathaniel was having to draw and write in the dark, hidden away from the world.

 

And subsequently, hidden from Andrew.

 

-

 

_That was a nice picture._

 

_you should draw me one, too_

 

-

 

Alexandre knew that he was supposed to be keeping watch, but he felt warm in a lot of different ways when Andrew talked to him. Andrew kept him grounded, kept him focused, and even managed to make him _smile._ He watched as a very zig-zaggy shape faded into existence close to his knee. He wished he could keep it there forever. Andrew even added in different colors to make his doodle look like The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

 

-

 

_i did not know that you were an artist_

 

_Draw one with me._

_Butthole._

 

-

 

Alexandre drew a bumblebee and Andrew colored it in.

 

Nathaniel wondered how he could love someone he had never met. 

 

Alexandre knew that was impossible. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i know i was gone for a HOT MINUTE and i am sorry  
> but i am in my 3rd year at college  
> so everything has been kicking my entire ass  
> but it be like that sometimes, you know?
> 
> thank you guys for reading! please comment if you are so inclined yeehaw
> 
> also this shit was SO HARD to write bc it’s a bridge between angst and more angst so i’m sorry that not a lot happened but we gotta do some set up ya know


	4. knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning here for violence/blood.

When Andrew Dobson entered middle school, girls started looking at him.

 

He was the tallest boy in his 6th-grade class at a whopping five-feet-even and had the same blonde curls as a boy from a band. One girl had pointed this out by drawing a heart in red marker around a picture of a boy on a magazine cover and shoving it in Andrew’s face.

 

Andrew thought her name was Ashley, but he really couldn’t be bothered to ask. It was the first week at his new school and only a few of his friends transferred with him, but he was content to keep the friends he had and not meet anyone else. Bee had moved him to a more advanced school to give him a better education, she had said, and he went along with it. He knew that he was smart--He had won the Junior Regional Spelling Bee two years in a row (and had since been disqualified, as having an eidetic memory apparently equated to cheating), made high A’s on his science and math tests, and scored among the top students in the state during standardized testing. Andrew knew that he was smart and knew that he was attractive.

 

He knew that girls were not.

 

“You look just like Josh Weeks!” Naomi (?) yelped, rapidly pointing at the image and bouncing up and down on her heels. “I can’t believe it! Allison told me you were basically him, but our age. He’s a 9th-grader,” she continued, batting at Andrew’s hands with the magazine. He had a feeling that he was supposed to hold it, so he didn’t. She blinked at him, nonplussed, and cocked her head to one side. “Well? Aren’t you going to say anything about it?”

 

“What is there to say?” Andrew asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “I am not whoever that is.”

 

Nellie (?) frowned. “Well no,” she agreed, “But you look like him, like I said, and my friend thinks that he is really cute.”

 

Andrew did not like where this was going. He had seen this in _The Fairly OddParents._ This girl, with her braids and her bright pink lip gloss and her purple skirt, was about to ask him to be her boyfriend. “You should get to the point, Maggie.”

 

Natalie blushed and looked down at her feet. “It’s Natalie, not Maggie, and…” She huffed out a sigh. “You don’t want to go out with me, do you? You didn’t even know my name.”

 

“I do not want to go out with anyone who thinks they like me because they think they like someone else. That is stupid, and you are stupid for asking me to be your boyfriend,” Andrew explained. He thought it was rather simple, but that was not the right thing to say.

 

“You are _such_ a jerk! Josh is a bad boy, too, but he would never call a girl stupid to her face like that! He just plays exy too roughly and sits alone at lunch in his new show on TV!”

 

Andrew blinked at her one more time. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

That was also not the right thing to say, apparently, because now he had an angry preteen on his hands.

 

“You are such a butt!” Natalie shot back, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Allison when she told me to ask you out! Now, the new kid hates me, and I look like a big, dumb idiot in front of Allison for talking to you, and--”

 

“Shut up,” Andrew said, voice ever calm. He stuck his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight to one leg. “I play exy. I look like Jake or whatever his name is. I do not hate you, because I do not care about you at all, because I do not _know_ you at all.” Shrugging seemed like the most effective use of body language here, so he waited until she looked up at him again and did just that. “I do not like girls.”

 

Natalie steeled herself and shot him a glare. “What, do you think we have cooties?” She bit out.

 

“Do you have a soulmate?” Andrew asked abruptly. “They might not like it if they knew you were asking other boys out.”

 

Straightening her back, she leveled her stare at him again, eyes still wet with unshed tears. “My soulmate does not want me because of _her_ parents. I can ask out whoever I want instead. Allison told me I should ask you out because she likes Josh’s new show and his music,” she grumbled.

 

“Allison is your soulmate,” Andrew guessed, removing his hands from his pockets to cross his arms. Natalie pressed her lips together and did not answer, so Andrew continued. “She wants you to be with someone else so that she does not feel guilty about not being able to be with you.”

 

After a long moment, Natalie nodded. “Her parents do not want her to be with a girl. They want grandchildren by blood, and obviously, that is not biologically possible yet with two girls. So Allison is my best friend instead.”

 

Maybe this Natalie girl was not completely horrible. “Do you like boys at all?”

 

Natalie shook her head. “No. I think boys are stupid. I just want to make Allison happy.”

 

“And you were okay with lying to someone in order to do that?” Andrew prodded.

 

“I would do almost anything for her. She is my soulmate.” Natalie reached up to hold onto the dainty, silver cross necklace she was wearing and brought it up to her lips. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the charm fall back to rest over her heart. “I would have been the meanie if I had tricked you into being my boyfriend.”

 

“You would have,” Andrew nodded. “Good thing I do not like girls.”

 

Natalie blinked at him. “You too?” Andrew nodded, and the tiniest smile pulled at the corner of Natalie’s lip. “I’ve never met anyone else like me. I mean,” she gestured weakly with her hands. “You know. I like girls. I am a girl.”

 

Andrew held his hand out to her and extended his pinky finger. “I do not like girls. I am a boy,” he said. “Do not tell anyone about me, and I will not tell anyone about you.”

 

Simple enough, right? Pinky promise.

 

Natalie firmly nodded her head and curled her little finger around Andrew’s. “When did you know?”

 

Andrew didn’t know what she meant--When he knew he did not like girls, or when he found out that he had a soulmate, even though he had not mentioned that he had one at all--but he supposed that it didn’t matter. “I was six.”

 

Slowly, Natalie pulled her hand away from Andrew’s. “I met Allison in Pre-K. She drew a purple flower on my hand and the flower showed up on hers, too, but it was different. It was yellow. When we draw anything on ourselves, our colors show up on the opposite side of the color wheel from each other. I asked my foster mother why it wasn’t a perfect match like most people’s are.” She met Andrew’s eyes to gauge his expression and he tipped his head for her to continue. “When you’ve met your soulmate and can’t love them the way you want to, you get complementary colors. Like being on opposite sides of the same coin, you know?”

 

The openness with which Natalie was willing to discuss her life was almost alarming, but Andrew listened. They did not have the same situation, but he had some understanding of what she was going through, because he could not be with his soulmate, either. _Maybe he should tell her that much._ “That sounds like it sucks,” Andrew mumbled.

 

Natalie stared at him for a moment. “And you called me the stupid one. Of course it sucks.”

 

Okay. Maybe girls weren’t so bad after all. At least not this one. He didn’t _like her,_ like her, but she held her own. That was worth respecting. “We should stick together,” he suggested. “Not like boyfriend and girlfriend. You need someone besides Allison--”

 

“You have a soulmate too,” Natalie said, more of a statement than an accusation.

 

Andrew crossed his arms and nodded. “But I can’t talk about them.”

 

“Are they a bad one?” Natalie asked. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want--”

 

“Oh, they are a bad one,” Andrew shook his head. “But not because they want to be. I don’t get black letters. I just have not met them. They do not write often, but. We still get color. They will love me one day. Hopefully.”

 

Natalie smiled sadly at him and looked down at a green heart drawn on the inside of her wrist. “Allison’s favorite color is pink, so I always draw in green.”

 

Andrew stuck out his tongue. “That is gross.”

 

Natalie held up her fist. “I want to punch you.”

 

Andrew blinked back at her and turned to the side to offer up his arm. “You asked.”

 

“I did. I don’t like to touch people without their permission.” She playfully punched him, and he might have smiled.

 

“Truce?”

 

“Truce.”

 

\---

 

Saskia Klein had to wear long sleeves in the summertime.

 

_Whore_

_Slut_

_Bitch_

_I will fucking kill you_

_I can’t wait to find you_

_Stupid fucking cunt_

_How is my little disappointment_

_I’ll kill him in front of you, first_

 

Saskia Klein could no longer hide her fear in front of her son.

She no longer sang to him at night for fear of being heard.

She no longer told him stories from _Mishlei._

She no longer entertained his retellings of happy memories.

She clawed and scrubbed and agonized over the words her soulmate wrote.

Maybe she deserved black letters for doing this to her son.

If he had died at tryouts, he would not have to live like this.

 

“Mutter,” Lukas whispered, gently touching her hand to get her nails to stop digging into one of his father’s horrible words. “Bitte hör auf.” _Please stop._

 

Saskia hated her son.

If it weren’t for him, Nathan might have continued leaving her alone.

After she provided an heir, she was worthless. She was a housewife and something to fuck.

Saskia hated her son.

She did not just change her son’s name and face to protect him.

Nathaniel was so much like his father, sometimes.

When she started teaching him how to fight, she saw her husband in her son’s every movement. She saw her husband in Nathaniel’s eyes; saw his smile tug at Nathaniel’s lips every time he uttered a smooth enough lie, swiped another credit card from an unsuspecting pocket, or put a knife to another lowlife’s throat.

 

Tonight, things caught up to them.

 

Tonight, _Nathaniel_ had slipped.

 

He did not move fast enough.

 

She had tried to prepare him for this, but murdering someone no one would ever miss and standing strong against trained killers were two very, very different things.

 

“Lukas, sammle deine Sachen und renne!” Saskia had screamed, twisting a gun-carrying arm into an impossible hold and wrestling the firearm out of the Suit’s grip. She pressed the end of the muzzle to the temple of her husband’s thug and pulled the trigger. She felt him go limp and threw him to the floor of the abandoned home she was squatting in with her son.

 

When the second lackey came for his mother after that first shot, Lukas hurridly zipped up their bag and pulled the knife he kept up his sleeve. In one fluid motion, he flung the knife across the room, and the blade embedded itself just to the left of its target’s spine.

 

Too quickly, the Suit turned and fired his handgun blindly. Nathaniel dodged the first few bullets and ran up to their attacker, jumping up onto his back and digging the steel further into the flesh and down before ripping it out. The sharp _shink_ of metal catching on body tissue was enough to make Saskia’s stomach roll, but the blast she heard immediately afterward brought bile up her throat.

 

Nathaniel fell to the ground thinking he was going to die. He heard another shot and felt the hardwood under his back rattle with the force of another body crumpling on it. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, pressing his hands over the gunshot wound in his chest. Tears welled up in his eyes and his voice went hoarse in his throat. “I’m sorry, Mum, I should have run, I’m sorry. Please help me,” he choked, squeezing his eyes shut. _His mother. Andrew._

 

_“I don’t want to die.”_

 

-

 

They were huddled in the underbrush, Saskia holding a bottle of cheap vodka to her son’s lips and forcing him to drink. When she thought he had enough, she poured some over the gunshot wound underneath his collarbone. He wouldn’t stop crying, wouldn’t stop _fucking crying,_ and she knew it hurt, _yes, Nathaniel, I know it hurts,_ but she couldn’t take it. She pulled a clean sock from their bag and shoved it into his mouth to keep him quiet.

 

He wasn’t Nathan like this. He was Nathaniel again, hurting and afraid and broken.

 

She never thought she’d be pulling a bullet out of her son with a glorified pair of tweezers.

The forceps sank into the wound and blood welled up over and around them. She had to sit on his lower half to hold him down. After too long, she finally dug the majority of the intrusion out and threw it to the side. It was close enough to be a chest wound for her to worry about air coming in through it, so she reached for her plastic wrap. At some point, he had lost consciousness, making wrapping his upper-arm and shoulder much harder than it should have been. At least he was not _fucking crying._

 

For a second, she had convinced herself that he was dead, but his heartbeat was still strong under her hand. Thank fuck that he was not _fucking dead_ because then _all of this would be for fucking nothing._ Just to be sure that she had not missed anything else, because there was _so much fucking blood,_ from him and from the Suit, she stripped him down to his underwear and scrubbed him down with baby wipes. She moved from his torso and arms to the tops of his thighs, and after the sixth wipe, she noticed something strange.

 

 _“Nathaniel, I miss you,”_ in neat, block lettering.

 

Any softness Saskia had for her son at that moment was gone.

 

She slapped her son awake.

 

Nathaniel had managed to kill them both.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey im finally back with another chapter lads  
> this fic??? is becoming huge. OOPS  
> thanks to all the people from the gru cru who gave me ideas and helped me along through this nonsense
> 
> let me know what you guys think <3 i love reading comments. they usually help me figure out where to go next. i am awful at writing in the respect that i just have like 4 major plot points i know i want to do and everything else is??????
> 
> next chapter will be... high school time  
> maybe we will meet some more characters  
> wink


	5. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> told you andrew would have an attitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for use of the f-slur!

“Does your soulmate know where we are?”

 

“Wh—? Mum, is—Did you get it out?”

 

“I asked you a question. Fucking _answer me,_ Nathaniel.”

 

Nathaniel desperately shook his head. “No, Mum, they only know my first name. They don’t know what I look like, they don’t know—”

 

“I told you not to speak to them,” Saskia hissed, digging her fingernails into the dirt so that she wouldn’t lay hands on her son again. She didn’t _want_ to hurt him, she was just so fucking _angry_ with him. He had been directly disobeying her wishes for over _six years._ Could she no longer trust her son? Had he always gone directly to the grocery store and back? Had he spent school days running his mouth and holding hands under desks? “I told you not to and you did not listen to me. What if your soulmate gave your father the ability to find us, Nathaniel? Your carelessness—”

 

He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t mean to, but Nathaniel started choking back tears again. Heaving, dry sobs tore his throat open, forcefully reminding him of the ache already crackling through his chest. _“Mum, Andrew doesn’t know anything!”_ he gasped, sitting up and immediately doubling over from the stab of pain that shot through him. “You can’t blame him for this. I don’t know how we were found, but I didn’t say _anything,_ I promise.”

 

Saskia searched her son’s face for any sign of lying. Stray smears of caked-on blood and the pink shadows of tear stains on skin hid much of what anyone would be able to read, but Saskia was not just _anyone._ She was a master of manipulating others, interpreting body language, and gauging what every twitch of the eye might mean. _Nathaniel used to look up and to the right when he lied._ It was evident that Nathaniel was not lying to her about his soulmate, now, but he was much too emotional about this _Andrew_ for her liking. As soon as she reached for his bag, he flinched.

 

He was clever. He had hidden it in his water bottle.

 

_A blue magic marker._

 

“Mum, I won’t talk to him anymore, I promise. Please don’t—”

 

“I am trying to protect you, Nathaniel. I suggest you start listening to me.”

 

_Snap._

 

\---

 

It had been two years.

 

Two years. Four words.

 

_I’m sorry. I can’t._

 

So, Andrew didn’t either.

 

But that didn’t matter. Andrew Dobson was 14 years old. He was in high school. _Practically grown._  He was the starting goalie for the Oakland High Wildcats exy team and already neck-deep in honors courses. His voice (and his balls) had finally dropped and the awful breakouts had (mostly) subsided. Puberty was kind and had granted him even curlier hair and almost honey-colored eyes. He hadn’t gotten any taller yet, but he swore he could feel a growth spurt coming on. Maybe all those exercises he had been doing and all the yoga classes Bee dragged him to were finally helping.

 

This was not the case. To make up for his lack of height, puberty gifted him with a hell of an attitude.

 

_Two years._

 

Two years ago, to the day, Andrew received a damning message from his soulmate. _I’m sorry. I can’t._ He assumed those words were the last he would get from Nathaniel. True to the universal constant that is teenage angst, he listened to Arctic Monkeys when unsavory thoughts filled his mind like cotton stuffing and he told himself that he was not meant to have happy endings. Everything would always be _bittersweet_ at best. Rapist foster father? Bee, a wonderful (yet somewhat overbearing) mother. Lost his soulmate? Gained a friend. Eidetic memory? Eidetic memory.

Whatever.

 

Renee knew what day it was. She always did, because she could always fucking read Andrew, and though she didn’t bother him about it, he could see a twinge of _something_ in her eyes. Pity? Understanding?

 

Did it fucking matter?

 

He slammed his locker shut and turned on his heel. _Nathaniel_ definitely did not fucking matter.

 

“Tone it down, Dobson,” his biology teacher warned as she walked by. Andrew just rolled his eyes. Biology wasn’t even a real fucking science, and her teaching methods of having her students fill in pre-printed notes from pre-made powerpoints did not help her case. Did some people really walk through life thinking the best way to spend their time was to lord over the number of decibels a solid locker-closing could produce?

 

Renee calmly closed her locker, spun the dial back to zero, and pulled on Andrew’s backpack to slow him down before she met his pace. “You seem hell-bent on getting in-school-suspension today,” she noted cheerfully, directing him toward the lunchroom once she noticed him beelining for the backdoor to go for a smoke.

 

“You know me. Regular delinquent,” Andrew snorted. “Not my fault that everyone’s stupid.”

 

Renee tried not to smirk. “You just have to keep them in check, don’t you?” Andrew shot a finger gun at her as if to say _bingo,_ and she laughed. “Oh, of course. I don’t know why I even asked.”

 

Today’s lasagna smelled a lot like yesterday’s chili, and Andrew took his sweet time piling as many french fries as he could next to the mass of beef and Kraft singles on his plate. He succeeded in erecting a covetable fry-mountain, completely emptying the serving tray before he moved on to the coolers.

 

“I’ll go find a table.” Renee smiled, leaving Andrew to his vices. _Despite his coach's wishes, he ate ice cream every single day at lunch._  Just as some upperclassman reached for the last cup of chocolate ice cream, Andrew met his gaze and snatched it away, practically daring him to say something.

 

“Hey, midget. Hand it over if you know what’s good for you,” the asshole hissed.

 

Andrew looked him up and down. The stranger was built up top but had forgotten leg day existed, _and_ he was carrying around a gallon of water like some kind of prick. _Football player,_ Andrew assumed. Not worth his time. “Fuck off, giraffe.”

 

That wasn’t the right thing to say, apparently. Mr. Asshole stepped closer to Andrew and effectively began to hold up the lunch line. “Do you know who I fucking am, freshie? Give me the fucking ice cream.”

 

“I don’t know who you are,” Andrew drawled. “Nor do I care. Get out of my way. My ice cream will melt.” With that, Andrew gave his new _friend_ a two-fingered salute and turned around. He took two steps before he felt someone grab at the back of his shirt. He stayed still, remembering Bee’s words and trying to count to ten.

 

“You can’t talk to Seth Gordon like that, faggot.”

 

Ah. Quarterback of the football team.

 

“Third person? Really?” Andrew asked, breaking out of Seth’s grip and turning to face him again. “You sound like a cartoon supervillain. Get creative and _maybe_ you will be able to hold my attention long enough for me to even _pretend_ to quake in fear. I can try now, though, just to save your already crumbling ego.” Andrew cleared his throat. “Oh, no, Mr. I-Will-Undoubtedly-Peak-In-High-School, please spare me,” he deadpanned.

 

Seth brought a fist up underneath Andrew’s plate and knocked it out of his grip.

 

Andrew looked bored as he watched the fries scatter across the linoleum. The ice cream cup burst as soon as it hit the floor. “What a shame. I was going to eat that.” _Count to ten._

 

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, twerp. Get out of this cafeteria before I _personally_ remove you from it,” Seth growled. Andrew just continued to stare.

 

 _“I personally,”_ Andrew parroted. “Doing anything means doing it _personally,_ dumbass. Stop wasting my time and go back to your circle-jerk in the locker room.” _Start over. Count._

 

When he felt Seth grab him again, Andrew had only made it to three.

 

He was at four when he knocked Seth out cold.

 

 

\---

 

 

“This little fucker broke my nose! I have a fucking game this Friday! I want his ass expelled—“

 

“Mr. Gordon, I ask that you calm down,” the principal sighed. “This is the third fight you have managed to get yourself into this school year and it is only October. You are on thin ice as it is.”

 

“I can’t fucking believe this—”

 

“ _Mr. Gordon._ Enough with the foul language. Our Student Resource Officer, Officer Higgins, will be in shortly to ask questions. He’s going through the security footage to see things for himself.”

 

Seth pressed his lips together at that and flipped Andrew off out of the principal’s line of sight. Andrew paid him no attention and simply crossed his legs underneath himself as they sat in silence and waited for the verdict. Bee wouldn’t be very happy with him, but at least he didn’t _entirely_ instigate it. He’d deal with that later.

 

Finally, Officer Higgins showed up. He threw a notepad down onto the principal’s desk, hitched up his belt, and cleared his throat. “Well boys,” he started, pulling out his reading glasses and perching them on the end of his nose before he picked up his notes again. “It’s clear that you acted first, Gordon. No buts about that. From what I could gather from the audio, neither of you were any semblance of kind. However,” he looked from Seth to Andrew, then paused, did a double take, and narrowed his eyes.

 

“Aaron? I didn’t know you went to school on this side of town,” Higgins said. “Did you transfer systems this semester or something? And get your ears pierced?”

 

“Oh, come on, he fucking knows the kid? This is hardly fair—"

 

“Can it, Gordon,” Higgins snapped. “I’m surprised Tilda let you do that, but whatever, you’re in high school now, right?”  

 

Andrew really hated cops. Not like he’d had any run-ins with them before, but the way they spoke and held themselves was beyond infuriating. Oh, I got some training and now I’m allowed to shoot people! Now I think I have power! What the fuck was this one even on about? “I’m not whoever you think I am. My name is Andrew. May I leave now?”

 

“Ha-ha, very funny, and no. We’re calling your parents first. Principal Evans—"

 

A knock on the door made the principal stand and straighten out his suit. Something else must be going on. Maybe those sophomore girls finally fought it out in the gym like they’d been threatening to for the past week. “That’d be me. Officer Higgins, you know the drill. I’ll be back in a moment. Mr. Gordon, our secretary will dial your mother. Meet her in the back of the office.”

 

Oh, joy. Andrew loved being left alone with older men.

 

“I’m calling your mom,” Higgins said, phone already up to his ear.

 

“You don’t know my mother,” Andrew sighed. He just wanted to get sent home already. Bee would probably still let him play _Halo_ until dinner. “Listen, Officer, I’m not—”

 

“Tilda! Hey. Yeah, I know, long time no see. Sorry to bother you, but I’ve got some news. Your son’s gotten into some trouble at school today. Fought well for himself, though, took down the quarterback with one hit. Ha—No,” Higgins frowned. “What do you mean, Aaron’s home sick today? He’s right here—No, I’m not saying you don’t know your son, but go check, Til, maybe he ended up going anyway.”

 

Andrew stood from his chair and crossed his arms. “My name is Andrew Dobson. My mother is named Betsy Dobson. I don’t know how dense you could possibly be, but you are a pig, so of course, you don’t listen, but—”

 

“—Well, it’s almost like he’s got a goddamned twin or something! This boy looks just like him, he—” Higgins stopped laughing to look at Andrew again. “What school? Oakland High. What—Tilda, calm down. Are you—Well you told me you had a kid in the—I just didn’t—“ After another fit of screeching from the other side, the line went dead.

 

Officer Higgins almost looked embarrassed. He mostly looked like a fucking dumbass. Andrew had a feeling that he probably looked like one, too. _Had a kid in the—_ In the what? In the system? Did this fuckhead of a cop know Andrew’s birth mo—No. _Did Higgins know the bitch he popped out of?_

 

The silence was suffocating. Andrew didn’t know how long he stood there until Higgins spoke.

 

“So, kid.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his feet. “You adopted?”

 

Andrew froze. “Why does that matter to you?”

 

“Now, I could be wrong, but—“

 

“I have a twin brother,” Andrew said.

 

_He didn’t want to know._

_He didn’t want to know._

_He already knew._

 

Higgins nodded. “You have a twin brother.”

 

As if today couldn't get any fucking worse.

 

\---

 

INSTAGRAM USER: @ADOBSON

DM: @AMINYARD

 

_Hey, Andrew._

 

_Higgins told me about you. I don’t know if he’s right. Part of me hopes he isn’t._

 

_Part of me hopes he is._

 

_Messaging you here probably seems stalkerish, but I didn’t know what else to do, and I can’t spend my life not knowing if I missed something this huge._

 

_It seems like you don’t use your account much at all, but I hope you get this._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH... i been gone a hot minute  
> this semester said YEET and threw me into the void  
> hope you guys liked this chapter! i know its shorter than usual rip in peace. but let me know if you like this characterization of andrew. i'm trying to make him a more outspoken bitchboy. like, he has more chill "i'll murder you" energy but more wild "i'm a fucking bitch" energy  
> seth is an asshole so i made him the school bully, obviously
> 
> note on police: not all cops are bad!! but some of them are + andrew's an edgy emo teenager with like five ear piercings and he's been begging bee to take him to get his septum pierced let him live ok
> 
> also: bee in a lavender dress and heels parading andrew around hot topic thanks
> 
> anyway. i love reading comments and i LOVE having suggestions EVEN MORE so yell at me down below xoxo
> 
> tumblr: @reaching-my-summit


	6. x

_“Have some composure!”_

 

_“And where is your posture? Oh, no, no!”_

 

_“You’re pulling the trigger!”_

 

_“Pulling the trigger!”_

 

_“ALL WRONG!”_

 

Andrew climbed on top of his bed and jumped into the air only to flop onto his back. “GIVE ME ENVY, GIVE ME MALICE, GIVE ME YOUR ATTENTION!”

 

“GIVE ME ENVY, GIVE ME MALICE, BABY, GIVE ME A BREAK!” Renee sang in their call-and-response, throwing her makeshift microphone (i.e., hairbrush) aside and pointing at her friend to cue his next line.

 

_“WHEN I SAY SHOTGUN, YOU SAY WEDDING! SHOTGUN!”_

 

_“WEDDING!”_

 

_“SHOTGUN!”_

 

_“WEDDIIIIIIIIIIIIING!”_

 

“As much as I love your performances, you two,” Betsy Dobson called outside her son’s door after they didn’t hear her rapping against the frame. “They are not as enjoyable when I have to sleep.”

 

Renee pressed her lips together and looked to Andrew, who immediately threw himself at his speaker system to lift the needle off his turntable. “Sorry, Ms. Dobson! Andrew is in love with Ryan Ross, and as is custom at any sleepover, we have to talk about our crushes. In this case, he has to worship his in song.” She shot Andrew a malicious grin and was gifted with a middle finger in return.

 

 _“Bitch,”_ Andrew mouthed at her, finally making his way to the door to open it up for his mother. “Hi, Bee. Renee is not wholly innocent. She’s head-over for Hayley Williams, and this is as close as she can get to professing her love, since I don’t have any Paramore to spin,” he quipped, leaning on the doorframe and looking over his shoulder at a now blushing Renee.

 

“Maybe you two will discuss your romantic affairs a little more quietly now that you’ve been exposed,” Bee offered with a sweet (and very passive-aggressive) smile. “I left chocolate chip cookies on the stovetop. Try to remember that you have school tomorrow and that you should not be up until the witching hour. I know you will be anyway, but don’t let me find out about it.” After she received two frantic nods of confirmation from the pair of teenagers, Bee bent over to place a kiss on top of Andrew’s head.

 

“Goodnight, Renee. Goodnight, Andrew.”

 

Not very punk rock of her, but whatever. She made him cookies. That made up for it.

 

Cookies were not very punk rock, either. But. Whatever.

 

Once Bee headed to bed, Renee walked over to her bag and dug out her pajamas.“I’ll go get changed and grab snacks. Need anything?”

 

“Yeah, actually. I would appreciate it if you could find some dignity while you’re downstairs. The person who is supposed to be my _best friend_ is apparently a snitch and told my mother I like an emo boy from 2006.”

 

 _Outburst number three for the day, Lord. Give me the strength to not kick this motherfucker’s ass,_ Renee thought, crossing herself once and looking up at the ceiling as if God himself would consider coming down to smite her bitchass best friend for his bullshit. “I’ll check and see if there’s any dignity left in the kitchen, but you’ve probably thrown it all away already.”

 

“Walker, you are on thin fucking ice,” Andrew warned, throwing his pillow at where she was bent over her duffle. There was a pause before she stood again, but she showed no signs of retaliation before she headed down the stairs. Believing he was safe, Andrew went to search through his dresser for a pair of sweatpants to sleep in. When he changed, he looked away from the door for a second too long and was pelted with his own goddamn weapon.

 

“You win this round, bitch.”

 

“I win every round, asshole!”

 

“Do you worship the LORD with that mouth?”

 

“He gives me permission to tell you off once a day,” Renee hummed, reappearing from the hall with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk for them to share. “Try not to eat all the cookies while I change.”

 

“He most definitely does not give you permission and I most definitely will not keep myself from eating every cookie on this fucking plate. _Tick-tock,_ goes the clock.”

 

Renee rolled her eyes and walked off to the bathroom, and Andrew grabbed a cookie and took a seat at the head of his bed. He heard a soft _buzz_ on the nightstand beside him and shoved the treat into his mouth to free both hands before yanking his phone off the charger. He had a notification.

-

 **_New DM from_ ** **@AMINYARD.**

 

 **_Accept_ ** **** **** **** **_Delete_ **

**_-_ **

 

Who’s this asshole?

 

-

**Hey, Andrew.**

 

**Higgins told me about you. I don’t know if he’s right. Part of me hopes he isn’t.**

 

**Part of me hopes he is.**

 

**Messaging you here probably seems stalkerish, but I didn’t know what else to do, and I can’t spend my life not knowing if I missed something this huge.**

 

**It seems like you don’t use your account much at all, but I hope you get this.**

**-**

 

Fuck.

 

“Andrew?”

 

_Shit._

 

He didn’t trust his voice, so he handed his phone to Renee. She narrowed her eyes at it before taking it, tapping once on the screen to wake it up. She didn’t have to scroll—The messages were short and simple, but after reading through them twice, she still had no idea what they meant. “Andrew, what is this?”

 

He was going to explain it. He _wanted to,_ anyway. That’s why he had invited her over, after all.

He was just hoping to avoid discussing it until around 4:00 AM when they’d be sleep deprived and emotionally vulnerable. _So much for that._ Now he _needed_ to explain it to someone, because this Aaron kid came along and decided to make it fucking _real._

 

“So. I got in trouble at school today.”

 

“I’m aware. I saw you get escorted to the office.”

 

“The SRO thought I was someone else when he started talking to me. He called that kid’s mother, because he’s a cop, so of course he doesn’t fucking listen to shit, and turns out, he knows the bitch that I lived inside for nine months, and he thought I was her son.”

 

It only took Renee a moment to connect the dots. “You have a twin. In Oakland.” She dropped her hand to her lap and clicked the button on the side of Andrew’s phone to lock it.

 

“What am I supposed to do with that shit?” Andrew asked, tongue-in-cheek. “It’s fucking ridiculous, right? It isn’t like I’ll ever see him. It was a closed fucking deal. I was never supposed to know who got knocked up and pushed me out. And she kept him, but not _me,”_ Andrew’s demeanor flipped almost instantly. He wanted to laugh. First his birth mother, then four foster homes, and his own fucking soulmate, all leaving him _alone._ He couldn’t believe he had to deal with this bullshit today, of all days. _Two years._ Andrew scoffed. “And now he’s trying to contact me, his long-lost twin brother.”

 

Before he could shut down again, Renee held his phone out to him. “You were going to tell me about it tonight, right? If this wasn’t important to you, you wouldn’t have brought it up.” When he didn’t take the phone, she placed it on his lap instead. “I’ll put on _Too Weird to Live, Too Rare to Die!,_ we’ll binge eat these cookies, and you’ll message your twin.”

 

Andrew closed his eyes. He had to message back. _I can’t spend my life not knowing if I missed something this huge._ “Aaron,” Andrew corrected, voice hardly above a whisper. “His name is Aaron.”

 

“And you’ll message Aaron.”

 

Andrew guessed he would.

 

**-**

**_Accept_ ** **** **** **** _Delete_

**_-_ **

 

_I got your message._

 

**Yeah. You did.**

 

_Why did you contact me?_

 

**How about the fact that you are supposedly my twin brother?**

 

 _Supposedly._ _I have a profile picture. Are we twins?_

 

**I’d say so.**

 

_Has your mother confirmed this?_

 

 **Ha. Yeah, she confirmed it. She wasn’t happy. Told me not to** **try to contact you. I didn’t listen.**

 

_Why take the risk?_

 

**Why the fuck would I not?**

**-**

 

“Renee, I hate this,” Andrew deadpanned, snatching a fourth cookie and practically inhaling it before his head hit the pillow again.

 

With a soft sigh, Renee sat up and looked down at Andrew. “Are you being receptive, or are you being stubborn?”

 

Crossing his arms and decidedly becoming more stubborn at the mere mention of the word, Andrew snapped back. “If you could stop reading my fucking mind every chance you get with your Christian-Jesus-Shitfuck-Powers or whatever, that would be the greatest thing you’ve ever done for me, you know that?”

 

“Andrew. Phone. Aaron. Go.”

 

**-**

**Andrew?**

 

_What are the consequences if she finds out that you contacted me?_

 

**She won’t find out.**

 

_You’re sure of yourself._

 

**Just in practice with hiding things.**

 

_I didn’t ask that._

 

**Fine. It wouldn’t be pretty. Why do you care?**

**-**

 

A stab of protectiveness wrenched itself into Andrew’s stomach. From the screaming he heard over the phone to what he assumed was an abusive parenting style from Aaron’s few messages alone, his first opinions of _Tilda_ weren’t looking good (not that he liked the idea of a “mother” that gave him up in the first place). Against his instincts, Andrew decided to leave that particular train of thought be. Any discussions of possible trauma could wait until the _second_ time they spoke. First impressions, and all of that.

 

**-**

_Do you have a goal here, Aaron?_

 

**I’m getting there.**

**We should get coffee.**

**Or go to the mall.**

**Or**

**Something**

 

_You are begging to get in trouble._

**-**

 

Andrew threw his phone at Renee again and crossed his arms. “Now he’s just being a fucking moron. He already isn’t supposed to talk to me. Now he wants to meet me? No fucking way,” he rolled his eyes. _And maybe that was sort of a front._ Admitting that he had always wanted a brother wasn’t something Andrew planned to do this century, _especially_ when said brother was already in danger in his own home.  He wouldn’t be selfish enough to do that, even when he’d hardly taken the time to process what he was feeling. Andrew quickly diverted as many emotions as he could to anger. It was always easier to be mad about feeling something than it was to wholly feel something raw.

 

“You’re angry,” Renee accused. “You’re angry at his mother, at him, and at the world. You’re angry at your soulmate today, too—”

 

“Don’t fucking talk about him,” Andrew spat, holding his hand up in front of him and closing his fist so tightly that Renee could see the muscles in his forearm tense and shake. “Not today.”

 

“—You’re going to listen to me, Andrew.” He met her stare with a cold glare but didn’t tell her to stop, so she kept going. “You need to stop finding excuses to shut people out. Aaron obviously wants to make this connection. You don’t have an X yet—”

 

“That’s bullshit. I _had_ an X. I’ve had three. I had one on my shoulder when I was eight, one on my chest two years ago, and one right here—“ Andrew pressed his fingers to the side of his neck right over his pulse. “—Five months ago. They stay for a few days and they leave again. Just like he does.”

 

Natalie flashed through Renee’s eyes for just a moment, and Andrew immediately caught it. _Murder face,_ he thought. “I hate this situation almost as much as you do, Andrew,” she sighed, “I know how much it sucks to sit on the sidelines and not know why you got dealt what you did, but you can’t let his inconsistency take this away from you.”

 

**-**

**Andrew?**

 

_We should go to the mall. Northside._

_Tomorrow at 4:00._

 

**Yeah.**

**Yeah, okay.**

**See you then, I guess.**

**-**

 

—

 

“So, Bee. I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here today.”

 

Bee, with her conservative, lavender dress and kitten heels, stood out among the black and blood red of Hot Topic. It wasn’t her favorite store, she had to admit, but Andrew liked it, so she just went along with him. “I thought you just wanted to take your cool mom to the cool kid store.”

 

“Yeah, not quite,” Andrew wasn’t in a _smiling_ mood, but Bee tended to pull them out of him when he least expected it. “This is going to be a lot all at once.”

 

“Are you officially coming out to me?” Bee teased. “You know whatever it is, I’m here to love you and to listen to you, Andrew, no matter what.”

 

“Good, because this is going to shock you.”

 

“Lay it on me.”

 

“I have a twin.”

 

Bee’s hand stilled where it pilfered through colorful little buttons and pins. She looked down and saw one that said _DAMN_ in stark white font. Fitting. “And you took me to Hot Topic to tell me that?”

 

“He’s coming to the mall today. To meet me. I’ll tell you the whole story later. I just…” _Clarify, rectify._ “I wanted you here in case I needed you. I don’t know how it’s going to go.”

 

Pushing her questions aside, Bee nodded and held her arms out to Andrew. He took her hand instead.

 

“I’m not going to hug you in Hot Topic, Bee.”

 

She grinned. “Too cool for that, huh?”

 

“Never too cool for you, _Mother Dear._ If you’ll excuse me, I have to go sit in front of Mandarin Express and meet my long-lost twin brother.”

 

—

 

It was like looking in a mirror.

All the pain, all the hurt.

Scared, afraid, alone.

Andrew felt something inside him settle into place.

 

“Andrew?”

 

A brother. _A twin._

 

“Aaron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn’t proofread this so tell me if i made any glaring mistakes!! i just had all of this in my head and needed to Get It Out  
> as always, let me know if you liked it! <3 these chapters are shorter than usual for me, but time is not in abundance around here yeehaw,, also the song is “time to dance” by panic! at the disco
> 
> NOTE: the x’s show up if someone’s soulmate dies. nathaniel has almost died A Lot so Andrew gets x’s that sort of fade in and out!


	7. teenagers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for gun violence, flashbacks to knife violence, death, blood, piercing needles (used for the intended purpose), and mentions of drug use.

Chris held his breath as the memories flooded back from the last time he’d had a knife to his throat.

 

_Faster, Junior! Oh, one more move like that and you’ll break your ankle. When you turn around, you have to sweep your foot outward, like this, so you can…_

 

The metal was so cold. The force behind it was deadly, he knew, and filled with the same intent. The owner had expertly sharpened the edge before it ever cut into the skin just above his jugular. For a moment, he thought it was _her._

 

_Come up just behind them, like this. Eye for an eye, Nathaniel. If you let your guard down, what happens?_

 

_You get hurt._

 

_That’s right, Junior. Try not to get blood on your nice new button-up. Your father wouldn’t appreciate your carelessness when it came to keeping his things nice and clean, would he?_

 

She cut his neck. How could he not ruin his shirt?

 

_You are a worthless excuse for an heir. Too much like your fucking mother, ungrateful for what I’ve given you, and incapable of completing even the simplest lessons and requests I have for you. Go get me a belt. Choose the right one, Nathaniel, or I’ll be forced to use both._

 

The correct one was the one that would hurt the most.

 

“Give me your fucking money, kid. Don’t pull any shit, just give it to me.”

 

Oh. That was almost funny.

 

“My wallet is in my backpack,” Chris said as shakily as he could, playing the part flawlessly. “I don’t want any trouble. Just let me set my backpack down and dig it out, Please.”

 

The mugger seemed satisfied with that. Scrawny teenagers were the least of his worries. All he cared about was the cash and getting his next fix; It was too much trouble to turn over some kid’s shitty textbooks.

 

In one fluid movement, Chris aimed a pistol with a heavy silencer right under his target’s chin. “Misplaced my wallet. Next best thing,” he shrugged, and immediately pulled the trigger.

 

Chris heard a wet choking sound and knew he hit his mark. The man stumbled backward and hit the alley wall behind him, swinging his blade arm blindly for a moment before the knife fell from his grip. “I didn’t want to have to kill you, but pulling knives on little boys? Shit’s low.” In lieu of any words, he got a gargle in return, and instead of leaving the bastard to bleed out, Chris pressed the silencer to the center of his forehead. He was careful not to get the rapidly spilling blood on his shoes. _Bang, bang,_ Chris thought, but the only sounds were a thud and a _splat_ from a body gone limp. He wiped the end of the pistol off on a clean square of the lowlife’s shirt and hopped the fence nearby. Pulling a hoodie out of his bag, he tied it to the handle to disguise his pack’s color, took off the long-sleeve and jeans he was currently wearing, and revealed a tee shirt and gym shorts underneath. Quick changes were essential to staying out of sight, and he really wasn’t in the mood to run from the police.

 

 _Kill count_ : _Fourteen._   _Happy 14th birthday to me._

 

Chris broke into a light jog and made the trek back to the shitty apartment he shared with his mother. A few years ago, she might have gotten some extra fruit for him, or maybe a dark-chocolate orange.

 

That was out of the question, now.

 

Jennifer was tighter with money than ever, was going without hot meals for fear of scents carrying through the vents, and was lucky to sleep four hours a night. She didn't even want anyone to hear the sounds of water rushing through the pipes, so there were rules for showering and flushing: They only did so when the apartments around them did. Chris wondered what the point of all this bullshit was. They were _alive,_ yes, and that was the goal, but that was _it._ They never really _lived._ She wouldn’t let them.

 

 _We exist like ghosts,_ Chris thought. _Never really anywhere._

 

Ghosts. Transparent, hollow, unable to interact, only able to make a foundation settle.

It was very fitting. Almost poetic. He blended in, he kept to himself, he didn’t leave a trace. Chris was a bump in the night, a chill that ran down your spine, and a spike in your pulse. He was nameless, faceless, and nothing but an idea; He was the last face fourteen people had seen, the merciless twist of an icy-cold blade, and an _I’m sorry. I can’t._

 

Before he ducked inside the apartment, he looked up at the sky. Wishing on stars was childish, but he couldn’t help but hope that his soulmate would write him a quick _Happy Birthday._

Anything would be better than this.

 

Chris didn’t understand how he could be so hopelessly lonely with his own mother. How could he feel so adrift in cities filled with smiling faces, stray cats, and popsicle stands on street corners? He used to think he could hold on to who Andrew was to keep himself company, but even that was slipping through his fingers, like cornstarch and water. The idea of someone who would love him endlessly was solid at a glance and steadfast under pressure, but the second he tried to imagine anything between them, every good thought melted away. Nothing could come of it--Nothing would.

 

-

 

Chris gave up on wishes after that night.

 

\---

 

“No. Absolutely not.”

 

“But you don’t even _know her,_ Andrew. She’s our mom.”

 

Andrew paused their game of Halo mid-match and turned on Aaron. “She’s not my fucking mother. She didn’t keep me. She didn’t want me. She. Is. Not. My. Mother,” he growled. “You probably haven’t even fucking talked to her about it. You’re just hoping she’ll say yes.”

 

“Uncle Luther is trying—“

 

“Is Luther your mother? No. He isn’t.”

 

Aaron huffed and took off his gaming headset. “Fucking fine, okay? I won’t ask again,” he mumbled, reaching up to straighten out the dents the headphones had made in his meticulously flat-ironed hair.

 

“Whatever. Let’s just finish this fucking game,” Andrew sighed, picking up his controller again and pressing start only to have Aaron pause it again. “What is it now?”

 

Apparently, wordlessly waving a phone in the air was supposed to be an answer. Andrew raised his eyebrow and Aaron broke. “My girlfriend and her friends are coming to pick me up. She wanted me to hang out with some friends tonight at a party. Something about it being a fucking rager. I’m on playlist duty, now, and I have to go get my laptop. I don’t have BOTDF on my phone because of Mom,” Aaron grumbled. “Sorry. I’ll spend the night next time, all right? We can play Halo tournaments all night and even camp out together in Red Base near the flag.”

 

Of course Andrew would have a twin that would be some non-committal, partying scenester. Fucking _poser._

 

“You always pull this shit, Aaron.” With that, Andrew stood and shut off his Xbox before Aaron could protest. “You can go wait outside for her, if you’re so eager to go mosh with your scene friends.”

 

“Andrew—“

 

“BOTDF fucking sucks, by the way. The lead singer’s a creep. Listen to Pierce the Veil or something even remotely palpable.”

 

“Fine. Okay. Can I come over this weekend? Or can we go do something?” Aaron asked, looking over himself in Andrew’s mirror and pulling at the crotch of his too-tight, bright white skinny jeans before heading out.

 

Andrew rolled his eyes, but agreed nonetheless. “Yeah. Sure. Don’t be a fucking dumbass and do something stupid tonight.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

-

 

_Because the drugs never work, they’re gonna give you a smirk, ‘cause they’ve got methods of keeping you clean. They’re gonna rip up your heads, your aspirations to shreds, another cog in the murder machine--_

 

The piercing needle stabbed through the flesh of Andrew’s septum and came out on the other side of his nostril. A single tear was shed symbolically for the struggle of getting the ball off the horseshoe ring (and not because it hurt). He looked in the mirror and stared at the needle for a moment before pulling himself together and slowly replacing it with the jewelry. After cleaning up the blood and disinfecting everything again, Andrew turned his face this way and that to study the fruits of his labor. Bee would get onto him later for body modding under stress again, and would probably take him to a professional shop to make sure that he had done it properly, but he was hardly worried about that for the time being.

 

Because he looked hot as fuck.

 

_They said: Teenagers scare the living shit out of me!_

 

-

 

“Your brother just did something stupid,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “He’s absolutely fucked and Laila’s mom just came home and ended the party early. He can’t stay with me and he can’t go home to his mom.”

 

Ah, the _girlfriend._ “I wouldn’t want him to stay with you anyway, since you let him get that way. Text me the address and I’ll be there in a few,” Andrew sighed. “You fucking owe me for this. He does, too.”

 

“It was a dare! You can’t blame me for this shit, one of the guys just—“

 

“Did I fucking ask? Text me the address. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay the fuck away from him from now on,” Andrew spat, hitting the _End Call_ prompt on his screen a little too violently. He cursed under his breath as he pulled on a shirt and slid on his Vans, heading to Bee’s room once he was dressed and knocking on the door.

 

“Come in,” Bee said, turning down the TV. “I was just watching a murder mystery. Is everything alright?”

 

“Aaron went to a party and got drunk or high or something and no one wants to be responsible for him. Will you drive me to pick him up?” Andrew sighed. “I didn’t want to ask, but—“

 

“Andrew,” Bee interrupted him. “It’s completely fine. I’m glad you told me. He probably needs to be seen after by an adult, anyway. I babysat many an inebriated person in college. I’m experienced,” she yawned, stepping out of bed and walking over to her closet to retrieve her sandals. “But I’m going in my pajamas and telling his mother about this in the morning. He’s too young to be making these kinds of decisions.”

 

Andrew nodded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. If what Aaron hinted at about Tilda was true, he was a little worried about what the outcome of telling her would be. “Am I justified in kicking his ass?”

 

“Did you know that your nose is newly pierced, Andrew?”

 

Andrew bit his tongue and pursed his lips. “So that’s a no on kicking his ass, then?”

 

-

 

“Give me your hand.”

 

“What the fuck, no!”

 

“You owe me, remember?”

 

“God, fine, what is it?”

 

Andrew took out a sharpie and drew a dick on Aaron’s girlfriend’s hand, then looked at his brother’s for comparison. “Oh, good. You aren’t soulmates. Run along.”

 

“What the fuck, man?” The _girlfriend_ screeched. “This’ll take days to wash off!”

 

“Yeah,” Andrew nodded. “That’s the fucking point. Be gone.”

 

“You’re a fucking asshole, Andrew, you know that?”

 

“I’m not the one who let my boyfriend take too many pills only to ditch him and make someone else take care of the problem,” Andrew shrugged. “Who gave him the pills, anyway?”

 

 _Girlfriend_ rolled her eyes and crossed her arms under her chest. “We took them from his mom’s medicine cabinet. He said she has a bunch of refills for hydros just lying around everywhere from her boob job. Tilda’s so fucking drunk all the time that she never notices when we grab some, and probably wouldn’t care either way. I’m leaving. My parents will kill me if I don’t get home by 2:00.”

 

Andrew checked his phone. It was a little past 1:30 in the morning now. “Better hurry, then.”

 

-

 

Bee sat with Aaron in the backseat, holding open a trash bag for him while he dazedly swayed back and forth between periods of retching. At least his body was starting to rid itself of the narcotics.

 

“How many pills did you take, Aaron?” Bee asked, gently brushing his bangs back.

 

“Don’t know,” Aaron hiccuped, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck, my head…”

 

“Aaron, I need to know how many you took. That determines whether or not I think we should take you to the hospital. Do you remember how many they dared you to take?”

 

A pitiful groan and another fit of gagging later, Aaron finally spoke. “Three of the…10/325.”

 

“Why did you take those pills when someone dared you to? You knew it wasn’t a good idea, right?” Andrew interjected. “They’re opioids, Aaron--”

 

“They _pussy won’t_ -ed me,” he whined. “You can’t say no to a _pussy won’t._ I should’ve stayed home with you, I’m s-sorry. I won’t go out again. Ms. Bee, please don’t take me to the hospital. My mom would be so fucking pissed if she found out I took too much again.”

 

“They _pussy won’t_ -ed you,” Bee repeated. “And your mother knows that you’ve had these drugs before, but still leaves them out in the open?”

 

Oh, that wouldn’t do.

 

Andrew didn’t like it when people hurt what was his.

 

He’d been the one to tip off the police when Renee had been too afraid to go forward after that human-trafficker assaulted her. He didn’t mind tipping them off again for a certain “mother.”

 

“Please don’t tell my mom.”

 

Andrew wouldn’t.

 

But he’d sure as fuck tell someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH SO THERE THAT WAS HUH
> 
> anyway, as always, i won't proofread this until like 2 am so feel free to tell me what i did wrong in the comments  
> and leave comments if you liked it! 
> 
> i know i promised twinyard bonding, but.  
> i want tilda to fuck off first  
> and i know the tag says andreil. and i know that isn't happening right now  
> but it will soon  
> i promise  
> thanks to so many of my lovely friends for giving me ideas  
> and for making aaron a shitty scene kid poser
> 
> and in case you didn't know: the song referenced was "teenagers" by my chemical romance, and also, don't fucking pierce yourself at home or take opiods that are not prescribed to you for clout


	8. mcdonalds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has some fun spiritual stuff involved!
> 
> if you'd like to know the properties of all the listed stones, you can go to https://www.energymuse.com/about-gemstones. 
> 
> pendulums are often used to read chakras or give to their owner answers to simple yes or no questions.
> 
> sadly, i don't have the recipe for Bee's virgin strawberry daiquiris.
> 
> and again, this fic is based off art by aymmi! 
> 
> http://aymmidumps.tumblr.com/post/181564465927/andreil-soulmates-identifying-marks-au

“Andrew. Breathe.”

 

“You’re making me doubt myself.”

 

“You want to know, don’t you? Push harder.”

 

_Swish, swish._

 

“Renee, I can’t—”

 

“Andrew.”

 

“I’m pushing, okay? I’m pushing as far as I fucking can!”

 

Renee dropped her arm and let her pendulum fall to the couch cushions. “You’re not even trying!”

 

“You _know_ how fucking hard it is for me to open my heart chakra! Go again. I’ll—”

 

“Language, Andrew,” Bee warned from the kitchen.

 

“Why the fuck am I here again?” Aaron asked from the corner, hardly looking up from his phone.

 

Renee cleared her throat and stood on top of the coffee table. “If I may have your attention.”

 

Andrew and Aaron cast bored looks her way.

 

“We are gathered here today to right the wrongs in our tragic love lives. Andrew, with his half-dead ghost, and myself and Aaron, with bigoted and paranoid parents, respectively,” she continued, pulling a piece of rose quartz from both pockets of her dress. “Tonight, we will call upon the energy and vibrations coursing through the universe and ask them to have mercy on us—”

 

“I have virgin daiquiris and hummus whenever you guys are ready!”

 

“THANKS, BEE,” yelled the chorus of angsty teenagers.

 

“—and to bless us with better fortune and insight. We ask the universe,” Renee continued, stepping off the table and walking over to a small, bundled-up quilt she had set in the center of the room. She sat down in front of it and unfurled it to reveal a mass of crystals, gemstones, and other minerals for their use that night. “We ask the universe to bless and cleanse these stones for us.”

 

“What the fuck, Andrew?” Aaron whispered, and Andrew waved him off in response, scooting over to take Renee’s bundle of white sage and lighting the end until it began to smolder. He held the burning sage over the stones and let the smoke wash over them to further dispel any residual negative energies.

 

“Allow the stones to call to you,” Renee said, closing her eyes. “Dim the lights, Andrew. Aaron, light the ceremonial candles. Black, for protection, pink, for romance and good will, and red, for strength and fast action.”

 

“Do I really have to do this?”

 

“Would you like to continue to be cursed with a horrible love life?” Renee snapped.

 

 _No,_ Aaron supposed. _No, he didn’t._ He took the long matchstick Renee handed him and lit the goddamn candles. He blew out the match and threw it into a nearby glass of water before taking a spot by the quilt, and Andrew soon did the same.

 

Renee continued, rubbing her thumbs over the smooth pieces of quartz in her hands. “Look over the stones. Listen to them. You may be drawn to certain patterns, textures, or energies. Let them choose you.”

 

 _This is bullshit,_ Aaron thought, but he looked over the myriad of colors and textures before him and picked out a piece of peridot, a very rigid, almost pillar-like black crystal and another smooth, slightly gold-shifted one—Black tourmaline and citrine.

 

 _This better not be bullshit,_ Andrew thought, and let his gaze roam over the gemstones on the quilt. He had done this with Renee before, but tonight was different. It was for Allison. For Katelyn. _For Nathaniel._ After mulling over his thoughts for a bit, he selected a piece of apatite, moonstone, and an almost iridescent abalone shell. Renee added lepidolite and malachite to the rose quartz she already had in hand.

 

Renee closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. “Now, breathe in. Take all of the negative energy pent up inside you and focus it at the base of your spine, right at your sacral chakra. Imagine a beam of bright, white light shooting down through your spine. The negative energy in your body, black like smoke, starts to travel up that bright beam of cleansing light from that blocked chakra. And breathe out,” she directed, and everyone released a heavy sigh. “As that negativity travels upward, it drags the poison from your heart chakra as well, and opens it up to love and light.”

 

 _Love and light,_ Andrew repeated in his mind, squeezing his stones a little tighter.

 

-

 

_How can you see into my eyes like open doors?_

_Leading you down into my core, where I've become so numb_

_Without a soul, my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold_

_Until you find it there and lead it back home_

 

“Bee, these daiquiris are amazing. I really like the little sugar rim you did around the glass.”

 

“Thank you, Renee. The tartness comes from just a little tangerine juice.”

 

“I’d really like the recipe if that’s okay with you! My mom would love these.”

 

_Wake me up!_

_Wake me up inside (I can’t wake up)_

_Wake me up inside (SAAAAVE MEEEEEE)_

_Call my name and save me from the dark!_

 

The vibrations of the heavy bass rattling through his headphones cleansed the rest of the negativity from Andrew’s chakras as he sipped away at his mocktail and ate his weight in pita bread. Maybe Renee’s weird ritual shit worked. He felt better than he had in a while now, save the itch on his arm. He looked down at the underside of his forearm and frowned. The freckles there weren’t recognizable, but he had been out in the sun more than usual with Aaron. For a moment, his anxiety told him that he definitely had melanoma, but he shook it off.

 

“Renee.” Andrew turned off his music. “Read my chakras again.”

 

\---

 

Driving proved to be a challenge for the first hour or two after Jennifer picked up a car from a family contact in Lincoln. It had been over five years since she ran away with her son and five years since she had been on this continent. The _2000’s Hits!_ CD Adam found in the glove compartment played some sad, angry song to fill the silence as they drove through Nebraska.

 

Adam couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he was on the same side of the world as his soulmate again. A stupid part of him expected to see Andrew everywhere he went. At the interstate split at Ogallala, they would stop at a gas station to get more supplies. _Granola bars, Gatorade, water, gas, a more detailed map._ Andrew could be standing there, trying to decide whether he wanted a Hershey bar or a Twix, and Neil would never know.

 

Nathaniel turned his arm over and repeatedly traced a heart on his forearm with his fingertip until his skin was oversensitive from it, thinking of Andrew’s name over and over again.

 

Maybe he would feel it.

 

\---

 

Andrew had been waiting for a very long time. He always did things quickly and got closure as soon as he possibly could. For something this important, though, he needed evidence. He probably shouldn’t have been as happy as he was when he got a garbled text message from his twin at the witching hour.

 

_Hungy. Habent been out 2day. Bring mickeydees_

 

It was a Tuesday, so Aaron should have been in school. An absence like that meant that he was either sick or didn’t want people to see him. A text that fucked up meant that Aaron was either sleep deprived or just as fucked up on pills. Andrew pressed the phone icon next to Aaron’s name (Wombmate) and waited through the dial tone until he heard a muffled voice come through the speaker.

 

“Andrew. D’you have McDondalds?”

 

 _McDondalds,_ huh? It was obvious now that Aaron was, in fact, high off his ass on Hydros.

 

“I’ll bring some. What do you want?”

 

“Usual. Mom’s mad, window’s open. Quiet when you come in.”

 

“Be there soon.”

 

Moving more quickly than he had since he punched Seth Gordon his freshman year, Andrew pulled on a jacket, grabbed Bee’s car keys, and scrawled a note on the pad stuck to the fridge. _Finally calling. Love you._ When Andrew got outside and started the car, his adrenaline peaked along with the roar of the old truck’s engine. _Two years._ After two years, he finally had everything he needed to send Tilda off and save Aaron.

 

-

 

After climbing through Aaron’s bedroom window and throwing the requested sack of grease at his brother, Andrew crept into the main part of the house to look around. Half-empty bottles of wine and pills littered the coffee table in the living room and dust clung to every other available surface. In the kitchen, dishes were piled up in the sink past the faucet, a bottle of Smirnoff was uncapped on the counter, and trash overflowed from the bin. Medical gauze with knuckle-patterned bloodstains sat on top of the toilet tank in Tilda’s bathroom. By the time Andrew went back to Aaron’s room, Aaron had sat up in bed to eat. The way he slumped suggested that his ribs weren’t in the best shape, and Andrew definitely didn’t miss the formation of a black eye on his face.

 

“See you tomorrow, Little Brother.”

 

“We’re twins, asshole,” Aaron mumbled through a mouthful of fries.

 

As soon as Andrew ducked outside, he was talking to the cops.

 

-

 

Aaron got his Quarter Pounder with Cheese. Tilda got arrested for child abuse.

 

Really, everyone won.

 

Well. Almost everyone.

 

\---

 

“Adam, make an inventory of the ammo we have left,” Jennifer ordered as she pulled on the roll of medical tape with her teeth. They had barely pulled out of yet another gunfight that night without any serious injuries, and she wasn’t taking any chances on not being prepared if another set of her husband’s men came their way.

 

“I think we’re out of paper,” Adam mumbled, looking through his duffle bag and finding nothing. Clean clothes, paper towels, or anything else that might have been useable was left behind in their frenzied escape, so the spare paper he had in his binder had been used, mostly in vain, to sop up the blood from his mother’s wound.

 

“I don’t care. Use anything. We don’t need to forget anything at our next stop.”

 

There weren’t many options. Adam knew what he would be doing when he wrote on his hand. Andrew would just have to deal with it.

 

_13 rounds 9mm FMJ 124 grain, 8 rounds .40 S &W FMJ 165 grain & 9 rounds 180 grain… _

 

\---

 

Almost everyone.

 

Andrew looked down at his hand just when the police arrived only to see types of fucking _ammunition_ being scrawled there. He pushed down the worry that surfaced first and dug around in the console of Bee’s truck for a pen. It had been _four fucking years_ since Nathaniel had said a goddamn word to him, and Nathaniel apparently had the gall to forego a fucking notepad without so much as a _hello._  With shaky hands and a lump in his throat, Andrew wrote back to his soulmate.

 

_Fuck you, asshole. Find somewhere else to write._

 

\---

 

His soulmate's words stung more than his freshly-busted lip. _Nothing else,_ Adam scrawled, then wiped away what he had written with spit as soon as he saw another pen mark bleeding through his skin. If his mother wouldn’t have been the shit out of him for it, he would have cried.

 

\---

 

Andrew was supposed to be over it. He really was.

 

_I don’t care. Find something._

 

_Don’t ever fucking write to me again._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooty hoo babes  
> if you didn't catch it, neil tracing that little heart on his arm made andrew's arm itch (-; 
> 
> please leave comments and kudos if you like the story! we out here,,  
> i finally figured out the rest of the plot for this fic. i can't say how many more chapters there will be, but i do know that this fic WILL be finished one day. so, that's something. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading, as always <3 good luck with finals, everyone!
> 
> n i know it's short don't kill me,, i just wanted to get this out before i'm MIA with finals xoxo


	9. telephone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for use of lesbian slurs!  
> plot plot plot plot plot plot plot

The dilapidated, weed-infested sidewalk in front of Andrew seemed to stretch on forever under the haze of orange street lights and the sticky humidity of a hot summer night. He sighed and scuffed his feet along the path, dragging his skateboard behind him. He didn’t really know where he was going, but he felt like he had somewhere to be, and he didn’t quite know what that meant.

 

_Andrew!_

 

Dropping his skateboard and turning sharply, Andrew searched all around him for the source of that voice, head darting from side to side. The sounds of buzzing electricity, faintly rumbling engines, and stirring cicadas distracted him in the dark and threatened to swallow him whole.

 

_Andrew!_

 

Why couldn’t he figure out where that voice was coming from? It was everywhere. It was nowhere. It was as lost in the thick night air as a stray cat in an—

 

Alleyway.

 

Andrew ran to the alley closest to him and saw a gray figure slumped against one of the dull brick walls, and in stark contrast, a scarlet pool of blood crawled across the ground underfoot. He froze immediately. What was he supposed to do?

 

 _Please, help me,_ the figure gasped, reaching out for Andrew and trying to take his hand.

 

 _I will. I will, I promise,_ Andrew croaked out, pulling his phone out of his back pocket only to find that it was dead. _Fuck. Fuck, do you have a phone?_

 

The person in front of him reached for his hand again, but the amount of blood on their hand kept causing their grip to falter. _Why aren’t you helping me? Please, help me. I think I’m going to die._

 

_No, no. You’re not going to die, no. Stay with me, okay? Just breathe. Focus on that. Focus on—_

 

_Andrew, you’re so cruel. You’d let your soulmate die. You’d let me die. I’m going to die. You’re letting me die. Please help. Please, please, please—_

 

“Hey, Andrew. Wake up. Nicky and Erik are only an hour out. We should head to the airport,” Aaron yawned, flipping Andrew’s bedroom lights on. “Bee said we could have the truck for today. We can go by Starbucks if you get up fast enough.”

 

It was just a nightmare. Andrew didn’t care about what happened to Nathaniel. Why would he feel guilty about anything even remotely related to Nathaniel, especially if it was just in some stupid dream? “Coming,” Andrew croaked through the sleep in his voice, rubbing his eyes and hobbling across the hall to the bathroom. He quickly washed his face to wake up a little more and then moved to relieve himself. When he looked down at the toilet bowl, he saw two words written across his hip bone, barely peeking out from under his low-slung pajama bottoms.

 

_Forgive me._

 

Forgiveness, in Andrew’s mind, was reserved for simple things, like Aaron forgetting to specify ‘ketchup only’ on his cheeseburgers or Renee forgetting that no, he could not relate to her fierce love for women. If Nathaniel thought that scrawling a few pitiful, half-assed apologies would make Andrew bend and talk, he was more idiotic than Andrew ever would have thought possible.

 

So, no. He would not be forgiving Nathaniel. He would take a piss, brush his teeth, jump into his too-tight jeans, and go meet people he was supposed to know but had never met. Andrew threw open the medicine cabinet, pulled out his pill bottle, and swallowed two capsules dry. _Bye-bye, anxiety. You can fuck right off._

 

Great. Wonderful. Perfect. Amazing start to the day.

 

After they gave Bee the _in a while, crocodile_ to her _see you later, alligators,_ the twins finally made it out of the house and climbed into the truck. Andrew sighed heavily, reaching up to adjust the rearview mirror only to see a racquet blocking a quarter of the back window. “You were supposed to get your stickball shit out of the backseat.”

 

“We’ll be late if we still want to get Starbucks on the way. It’s not like Nicky and his host brother won’t fucking fit just because my shit’s back there,” Aaron grumbled, picking up the AUX cord and settling on one of their specially-designated _mutual_ playlists to listen to as a sort of peace offering.

 

“Fine, but you’re buying my coffee simply because you’re incompetent.”

 

Aaron rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He could see from the puffy, dark skin under Andrew’s eyes that he hadn’t slept well, and the strength of his grip on the steering wheel and general snappiness in his tone meant that it wouldn’t be a great idea to prod this morning. _All signs of a bad night._ “Did you take your meds before we left?”

 

Andrew nodded and turned out of their neighborhood to get onto the main highway. They stopped at Starbucks and ordered shitty pastries alongside their usual obscenely sugary coffees before making their way to the airport. As soon as they pulled up into arrivals, they got a text saying that Nicky and Erik’s plane had landed. Instead of expressing his worry to his twin, Andrew wolfed down the rest of his scone and inhaled his mocha monstrosity in record time.

 

“You’re worried,” Aaron said.

 

“Am not,” Andrew spat.

 

“I’m about to go break open that fire extinguisher panel.”

 

“The fuck?”

 

“Because your pants are on fire. Because you’re lying to me. Get it?”

 

Andrew opened the door and stepped out of the truck. “Do you think I can pretend to not fucking know you once they get here?”

 

“Bold of you to assume that the common man can pick up on the differences between emo and scene culture. Also, you know, we kind of have the whole _twin_ thing going on and all of that,” Aaron shrugged exaggeratedly.

 

“Please. I have better piercings _and_ I’m shredded. You—”

 

“AARON! MY LITTLE BABY COUSIN, IT’S BEEN SO LONG!”

 

Okay. Aaron had said that Nicky was quiet. This was not quiet. This was the opposite of quiet. A homeless woman sitting on one of the shuttle benches nearby even turned to stare as Nicky practically threw himself at his cousin and squeezed him tight.

 

“And you!”

 

Oh, Christ.

 

“I can’t believe I have another little cousin! Hi, Andrew. My name’s Nicky Hemmick. This is my…” Nicky paused for a moment and gave Erik a questioning look before Erik simply nodded. “Aaron, you too, listen up. This is my boyfriend, Erik Klose.”

 

Andrew pressed his lips together and tilted his head to one side. Maybe Germany turned generally quiet, reserved people into raging homosexuals or something. “Hi, Nicky. Hi, Erik. Nice to meet you both.”

 

“Okay, yes, hi, or whatever, but why the fuck is literally everyone I know queer? Am I the token straight person in this narrative?” Aaron scoffed. “You’re _gay,_ Nicky? Do Luther and Ma—”

 

“I went to Germany because I had to get away from them, Aaron. They tried to send me to conversion therapy. I’m not here to say shit to them. I came home to see you and to meet Andrew.” Nicky paused and offered a small smile in Andrew’s direction. “I’m sorry, Andrew. This is already a lot and we just met,” Nicky sighed.

 

Erik wrapped an arm around Nicky’s shoulders and pulled him close. “We should forget about all of that stress-filled things and focus on knowing new family, yes?” he asked in his thick, slightly broken English. “Hello, Aaron. Hello, Andrew,” he smiled weakly, obviously still concerned for Nicky and wary of the strangers standing in front of him.

 

“Excuse the lesser twin. If he gets focused on something, he won’t let it go,” Andrew mumbled in light of a real response, watching Aaron pace around the back of the car out of the corner of his eye. “He also left his exy shit in the backseat, so you’ll have to squeeze, which...Should not be a problem,” he finished, noting how tightly Nicky clung to his boyfriend.

 

_That could be me, but my assignment is a stupid fucking bitch._

 

After they all squeezed into Bee’s truck, Nicky talked about how things had changed, and how Germany was always basically two years behind America when it came to trends and music, so the culture shock would be interesting to work through. Of course, Nicky was back in high spirits in no time, and deemed it necessary to ask all the cereal box questions about school, prospective colleges, and even _assignments_ (because Andrew now refused to use the term ‘soulmate’). School was going fine for the twins and they were both looking to Palmetto State for athletic scholarships. Aaron’s assignment was planning on doing Pre-Med there alongside him, and he had arranged to meet her soon.

 

Andrew lied and said that he hadn’t thought about his major and that he was a _Special,_ or someone born without a definite assignment. That was always much easier to default to than the truth. He ignored the obvious look Aaron gave him and focused on the road ahead of them instead.

 

In a weak attempt to innocently make conversation, Aaron spoke up. “Nicky. Is Erik your soulmate? Is that why you went to Germany?” He supposed there was no _innocent_ way to ask that question.

 

Nicky turned to Erik with a soft smile on his face. “Yeah. He is,” Nicky whispered, taking Erik’s hand and leaning over to press a kiss to his lips. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

 

For the remainder of the drive, Andrew tried not to slam his head down onto the steering wheel.

 

\---

 

“I don’t know what to do without him.” Gage shook his head and looked to the homeless woman on his left. “I didn’t talk to him for years because I was scared and because my mom wouldn’t let me talk to him, but—But I thought he would always be there if I needed him. You know? And now he won’t even say ‘fuck you.’ It’s radio silence,” he sighed. “I had to write something down and we didn’t have any paper, so I used my hand. Of course, he saw it, and how could he not comment, you know? I—Marge, this sounds fucked, but I’ve given him an _X_ or three, and then I’m suddenly back from the void, like oh, hi, by the way, everything still sucks and I’m still unable to talk to you! And now that I’m older and I can get away more, I might be able to talk to him, but he still won’t fucking answer.”

 

“You’re an asshole,” Marge said, stealing another one of Gage’s peanut butter crackers and stamping out her cigarette on the ground between them. “You can’t expect shit from him if you aren’t able to give it in return. How can a homeless kid act so fucking entitled?”

 

“Because I don’t have anything. And I thought I had him,” Gage mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face into them.

 

“You know, I’m a _Special._ Dated a dyke or two in my day. So I know what it’s like to have a gay heartbreak.”

 

 _Emotional support? What’s that like?_ Gage thought. “What’s it like? How did you get through it?”

 

“I drank myself into prison, bankruptcy, foreclosures, and homelessness,” Marge shrugged. “But it ain’t so fucking bad.”

 

Gage just blinked at her. “That sounds pretty fucking bad, Marge.”

 

“Ain’t no problem a handle of gin can’t fix, Kid.”

 

“How about the homelessness predicament we’re currently in? Can gin help with that?”

 

“Helps you forget you’re a homeless motherfucker,” Marge snorted, slapping Gage’s knee and immediately coughing something up. She cursed under her breath and spat it onto the sidewalk.

 

“Right, Marge.” Gage rolled his eyes, standing up and handing the woman the rest of his crackers. “Get your lazy ass up to the soup kitchen because I’m not getting a goddamn thing for you tonight,” he quipped before starting to jog off in the opposite direction of the dump he was currently staying in, just as a precaution. Allowing himself to talk to Marge was already risky enough. He wouldn’t dare let her find out where he was staying.

 

Just then, his phone buzzed. It was his mom giving him the okay to come home, he was sure, so he just kept running down his little detour until he got an idea. His burner was kept under his own name, and he could add minutes or text message packages whenever he needed to. To his knowledge, his mother never checked the call history or anything. Why would she? They were only supposed to use the phones to communicate with one another.

 

If he had a phone, why wouldn’t he fucking use it?

 

Gage stepped into an alley and pulled a pen out of his backpack. Pushing his sleeve up, he only paused for a moment before scrawling his phone number across the inside of his forearm.

 

_God, I may be a stupid fucking bitch, but I really need You on my side for once._

 

\---

 

“Alright, boys, I put the air mattress up in the attic for you two. I’m sorry it isn’t much, but we just don’t have the room, and I doubt you’d want to be in the living room, even if there is more space,” Bee hummed. She, of course, picked up on what was going on between Erik and Nicky the second they walked in the door, and didn’t even allow them to waste the breath of explaining their situation. “Go get some rest, I know you’re both exhausted from the plane ride. Aaron, show them where the bathroom is on the way up, okay?”

 

“Yes ma’am. Nicky, Erik. This way,” Aaron said, pointing up the stairs and leading them off.

 

As soon as they were out of earshot, Bee turned to Andrew. “You’re upset.”

 

“Who said that? I sure as hell didn’t,” Andrew said, not turning around from his thorough stare-down with the fridge. Maybe if he looked long enough, more food would appear.

 

“Listen, Andrew,” Bee sighed. “I don’t care if you respond, but I need you to hear this. I know you’re dealing with a lot right now, and seeing a pair of queer soulmates definitely did not help matters, I’m sure, but—”

 

Andrew shut the refrigerator doors and sighed. Bee was always right. “Where are you going with this?”

 

“—Don’t interrupt me. This is not elementary school. This is real, almost-adult life, Andrew. I know that you’re very upset about your situation again.”

 

“Did Renee tell you that?”

 

“I’m just perceptive.” _And Renee told her that._ “What I am trying to say is that you will never be able to move on from him by shutting him down again and again. You have to talk about this. If you were in his position—and you have been before, need I remind you—you would want an explanation, too.”

 

“Bee, you don’t get it,” Andrew sighed, walking over to the cabinet and pulling out his emergency jar of Nutella.

 

“You’re right. I do not ‘get it,’ because I am not you. I do, however, get the fact that you need to shut down whatever pity party your brain is throwing itself before it gets worse,” Bee said, handing Andrew a spoon to tackle the emergency at hand. “Talk to him.”

 

Andrew muttered something noncommittal and walked upstairs to his bedroom. He had no desire whatsoever to speak to his assignment that afternoon. As soon as he reached the doorway, he heard his phone vibrating from where it sat on his nightstand. If it wasn’t one fucking thing, it was another. Renee had called him seven times.

 

And like another conveniently fucked up plot device in the turbulent journey through Andrew’s unbelievably shitty love life, Renee’s voice threatened to give him a migraine.

 

“Okay, Walker, you’re about to hit the range where you make every dog in the fucking neighborhood shit itself, Christ,” Andrew griped, holding the phone away from his ear.

 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just. Andrew, Allison called me today. When she told her parents she had signed on with the Foxes to play, they disowned her. They left her all her own assets, but—She doesn’t have to please them anymore. I can finally go public with her,” Renee sighed. She sounded happier than she ever had. “Isn’t that amazing?”

 

He wanted to be happy for her. He was. He wasn’t.

 

Aaron had Katelyn. Renee had Allison.

 

Even the people he had just fucking met were paired up together, for God’s sake.

 

And with all the impact of a poorly thrown whiffle ball, Andrew ground out a “That’s great, Renee.”

 

“It is, yeah. Okay, Andrew, I’m gonna go tell my mom. I wanted to tell you first,” she said airily. “I’ll let you go. We still on for tonight?”

 

Andrew didn’t know how well he’d handle company today, but he had been looking forward to doing stick-and-poke tattoos with Renee for almost a month now.

 

...And the answer to every stressful situation was body modification. So.

 

“We’re still on. Bye, Bitch.”

 

“Bye, Bitch.”

 

Andrew tossed his phone somewhere on his bed and let his head hit the pillow before he grabbed his jar of Nutella again. Just as he choked down the biggest glob of it he could manage to fit into his mouth, he saw a black streak appear on his forearm.

 

\---

 

Gage answered his phone embarrassingly quickly.

 

“Andrew?”

 

_You have thirty fucking seconds to convince me to change my mind about never speaking to you again. Go._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS LITERALLY BEEN A MONTH HELLO  
> ;-) yeehaw  
> finals are over! we out here boys 
> 
>  
> 
> as always, please comment and let me know what you think! leave kudos if you are so inclined. thank you so much for reading <3


	10. chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> usual triggers/warnings apply!

“Thirty seconds?” Nathaniel was instantly taken aback. He didn’t even know where to begin. Was he supposed to explain himself? Maybe apologize? He had only apologized to protect himself from the people around him, so he had never actually _meant_ any of the apologies he’d given. He had no idea what a real one was supposed to sound like.

 

_So you can hear. Amazing. Let’s try again and see if you can actually listen. Thirty. Fucking. Seconds._

 

Nathaniel stammered for a moment, stopped to gather himself, and started again. “How am I supposed to know what to say to you?” he asked, his chest tightening more and more as he spoke. He was afraid, and this fear was drastically different from the fear he normally experienced. Nathaniel never worried about anyone abandoning him because he never had anyone in his life that could.

 

Well. No one except Andrew.

 

_You’re supposed to figure that out. You didn’t feel like talking for five fucking years. I thought you might have something to say. Maybe you thought through a cute little speech to try and win me over. Maybe you want to make me feel bad for you. Go ahead. Appeal to my emotions and shit._

 

“I got a burner phone a while back. I was talking about you with a homeless lesbian, and then she called me an asshole. Per _everything_ you just said, you kind of sound like an asshole, too, so maybe we deserve one another.” Nathaniel heard Andrew scoff by continued before he could get a word in. “Anyway, I didn’t think of a speech. I thought, ‘Oh, fuck, I can talk to my soulmate—“

 

 _Okay, first off._ Andrew tried his best to keep his voice steady. That stupid fucking word made his stomach twist. He regretted eating half a jar of Nutella. _I am not_ your _soulmate. You are_ my _assignment. Secondly, how am I the fucking asshole? You’re the one…_ Andrew paused and tried to find the words he needed. Nathaniel filled in the blanks for him.

 

“Yeah, I know. I’m the one who abandoned you,” Nathaniel sighed. The back of his head hit the brick wall behind him as he slunk to the ground. “But you abandoned me, too,” he whispered, closing his eyes and slowly massaging one of his temples.

 

 _Oh, that’s rich. Yes, because not wanting to get fucked over again right when I thought I was over whatever_ you _are counts as abandonment. We both know you’ll get scared again and drop off the face of the planet. You must be pretty fucking selfish if you’re willing to drag me into that shit again._

 

Nathaniel really didn’t have anything to say to that. It was true. He was selfish. “Forgive me for wanting one thing,” he mumbled. “Soulm—Assignments are supposed to work out somehow, unless one of them dies, and—“

 

_Oh, you want to have a soulmate? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Are you assuming that I’d try with you just because you fucking asked? You aren’t reliable at all. You might as well be dead already. You almost died on me three times. Or did you forget about all of that? Wouldn’t it just be easier to pretend that we’re Specials? You can go and do whatever the fuck it is that you do—_

 

“I should already be dead, Andrew,” Nathaniel interjected. He got silence in return, so he took that as a sign that he could continue. “It’s a miracle that I’ve lived as long as I have.”

 

_What, do you have cancer or some shit?_

 

“Oh, you have a sense of humor,” Nathaniel deadpanned. “You probably don’t remember this, but—”

 

_I remember everything you have ever said to me. Do not waste my time. It’s been almost two minutes and you’re still talking._

 

“—Everything?”

 

_Still not good at listening._

 

As much as Nathaniel wanted to question that, it wasn’t the time. He had more pressing concerns, like the fact that Andrew claimed to remember a little too much. “Then what have I told you?”

 

_You ran away because your father hurt someone. You’ve been running for—_

 

Nathaniel had never felt the need to talk about his life out of his obsession with covering trails and telling lies, but in that moment, he couldn’t help himself. “Seven years. If someone’s listening in on this call, I’m so fucked, but saying this out loud—”

 

_He must be a pretty bad father. Seven years is a long time._

 

Nathaniel almost wanted to laugh. “Pretty bad is a bit of an understatement.”

 

_Do you not go to school?_

 

“Sometimes I do.”

 

_And you couldn’t have found a pen there?_

 

And get the shit beat out of him if a stray smudge was found anywhere on his body? No thank you. “Complicated.”

 

_That isn’t an answer._

 

“No, it just wasn’t an answer you liked,” Nathaniel grumbled, folding his legs up underneath him in an effort to get comfortable on the concrete. “The last time my mom saw a word on me, she slapped me awake. I had just passed out from her digging a bullet out of my chest. I’d like to keep my horrifically extensive list of bodily injuries from growing.”

 

 _Finally, you got to the ‘appealing_ _to my emotions’_ _part. That was my first almost-X, right?_

 

Andrew was unbelievable--Of course Nathaniel would get _assigned_ to _that._ “I just told you that my mother beats me and that I’ve been shot before. _That’s_ what you’re going to settle on?”

 

_We all have daddy issues. You aren’t special._

 

For some reason, that was comforting. Even if Nathaniel was running from a sociopath, living with an abusive mother, and narrowly escaping death every few months, Andrew didn’t pity him or treat him like he was his _assignment._

 

But that didn’t make Andrew sound like any less of an asshole.

 

“What about you, then? Do you have daddy issues?”

 

_Learn to fucking listen already, Christ. Keep up._

 

“That isn’t an answer.”

 

_Oh, look at me, I’m so fucking cute, repeating you and shit. Shut the fuck up. Get your own comebacks and maybe I’ll consider the idea of not blocking you as soon as this phone call ends._

 

“You still didn’t answer my question,” Nathaniel said, raising an eyebrow. “And do you say some variation of the word ‘fuck’ in every sentence that leaves your mouth?”

 

_Yes, I have daddy issues, no, I just didn’t, and finally, do you have a name?_

 

Andrew somehow knew better than to say Nathaniel’s real name over the phone. Nathaniel didn’t really know what he expected from Andrew, but...This reality was so different from the world and the Andrew he had dreamed of as a child. He expected someone more kind—too kind for him to stand, even. Maybe someone funnier. Despite all of the changes they had gone through, Andrew was still wildly perceptive, defensive, and loyal, no matter how much he tried to hide it. He had a feeling that Andrew really would have given anyone else thirty seconds to speak.

 

_Hello?_

 

“Neil,” Nathaniel said. It might not have been the truth, but at least the new name he’d made was a piece of it. Hopefully that counted for something, and hopefully Andrew would understand. Nathaniel hated the name he’d been given and wasn’t attached to any of the ones he’d had since then. It was fitting, in the end, that he would take his father’s name and twist it. Being born into something did not rule out deviation from it, but any kind of deviation would never be able to overwrite years of training to be a Wesninski.“You can call me Neil.”

 

_How ordinary._

 

“From someone named Andrew, that sentiment doesn’t mean much to me.”

 

_We’re talking about you, not me. I’d like to get to the point here, Neil. What do you want from me?_

 

_-_

_Neil._ That name sounded like something when it came out of Andrew’s mouth. Neil worried his lip between his teeth. How fucked was he?

 

Fucked enough to just roll with it?

-

 

“Who isn’t listening now? I already told you that I only want one thing,” Neil whispered.

 

_You weren’t serious. You aren’t. You don’t know what you want. I’m just the first thing that comes to your mind._

 

“You don’t get to make decisions for me. I told you what I want. Don’t ask for the truth if you’re just going to dilute it.”

 

 _And I’m supposed to just_ trust _you?_

 

“All I want is a chance, Andrew.”

 

-

 

Andrew went silent. A chance? Was it that easy? Hadn’t he already taken enough chances on Neil, playing connect-the-dots with his freckles and choking on his heart when black X’s threatened to stick to his skin?

 

_“Does that mean you love me?”_

_“I’m supposed to someday.”_

 

Was he?

 

_Andrew, are you still there?_

 

Was he?

 

_Andrew?_

 

“There will be rules.”

 

_Is that a yes?_

 

“Did I fucking say _yes_ yet?” Andrew spat, pressing the speakerphone prompt on his phone screen and letting his phone drop to the mattress. “I’m not agreeing to anything yet. I’m not going to call you my soulmate. You are not even my friend. You have to earn that shit. This is a trial run, and from what I’ve seen from you so far, I won’t be giving out subscriptions any time soon.”

 

_I’m not asking for you to meet me at the fucking altar tomorrow. I’m asking for a chance. Yes or no?_

 

“What do you mean, ‘Yes or no?’”

 

_Simple. Just like me._

 

“Fucking liar.”

 

_Maybe._

 

“Are you not going to defend your case, Neil?”

 

_Why would I do that, Andrew? This is your decision. Plus, I can’t argue without my lawyer present. Sorry._

 

”Can you give me a second?”

 

-

 

“I know you need to lose your shit about Reynolds, but we’ve surpassed _Code Red_ on the _Huge Fucking Problem_ scale. We’re already all the way to _Becoming a Human Trash Fire is Preferable to This.”_

 

Renee set down her stick-and-poke supplies and jumped up onto Andrew’s bed. “I think we’ve only ever reached that level once when Target temporarily stopped stocking Ben and Jerry’s.”

 

“This might be even worse than that,” Andrew mumbled, rocking forward so that he face-planted into the mattress. “He gave me his number. I called him.”

 

“Who?” Renee asked. “The boy from Chem II that looks at you sometimes? The one with the silver hair? How is that so bad? Did he—”

 

Andrew turned his face and flicked his gaze up to Renee. “Nathaniel. I called Nathaniel.”

 

Renee was up and pacing the floor in less than a second. “I’ll kill him. You know that, right? Do you want me to kill him for you? Because I’ll kill him. What could he possibly have wanted from you?”

 

“Hmphmhph.”

 

“What was that?”

 

“HMphmhPH.”

 

“Andrew.”

 

“He wants a fucking _chance,_ okay? And what the fuck is my gay ass supposed to do? Say no?” Andrew groaned, rolling off his bed and onto the floor. “I’m still so fucking raw about it all, but it wasn’t like he could control—”

 

“Don’t tell me you said yes already.” Renee busied herself distributing India Ink into smaller containers before handing Andrew disinfecting wipes and a set of medical-grade needles (because they weren’t THAT stupid). “I know you aren’t stupid, but your gay bitch disease flares up at the most unfavorable times. Specifically when I’m not around to keep you in check. How do you know he’s telling you the truth?”

 

Andrew didn’t know if Neil was telling the truth now or not, but Nathaniel, the child with too much love in his heart and a blue magic marker in his hand, definitely did. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

 

“Do you want to?”

 

“Hey, Renee?”

 

“Hey, Andrew?”

 

“Have you ever considered—Get this—Shutting the fuck up?” Andrew asked, dragging an alcohol pad over his thigh before grabbing a pen from his desk to sketch the design he wanted.

 

Renee rolled her eyes and threw Andrew a roll of paper towels to clean up the tattoo ink as he went. “Why don’t you explain what happened while I’m sitting here and shutting the fuck up?”

 

_-_

 

_Andrew?_

 

“Neil. Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for being so patient with me <3 and thank you for still being interested in this story! i’ve been super busy and haven’t been able to write much, but i’m glad i could finally get some andreil out for this andreil fic. ;-) let me know if you’re still liking it so far!
> 
> EDIT: CONCERNS ABOUT NEIL
> 
> Andrew (and the others) don’t know the whole story. All Andrew knows is that he feels hurt by Neil’s disappearance. He can’t even begin to imagine what Neil has gone through, and it doesn’t occur to him that anything is that bad. He’s a selfish teenager right now and is only focusing on his own emotions. It’s a lot easier not to care about people you can’t see and touch, right? So yes—People are blaming Neil, not for his own abuse, but for how his abuse affected them. Does that make sense? Obviously Neil is not at fault here. He had to do what he did to protect himself, but Andrew can’t see that yet. That’s something I plan on exploring in the next chapter. <3


	11. staring

“Well,” Neil almost smiled, cradling his phone between his cheek and shoulder as he grabbed his bags and pushed the convenience store door open with his foot. “First off _…_ Good. Second, you can’t just call me whenever you feel like it. There are—”

 

_Before you lecture me, I have something else I need to say. I don’t understand your situation. I’m not claiming to. I can’t blame you._

“But you want to blame me?”

 

_I want to. I did. I do._

“Yeah, I might have picked up on that right before I called you an asshole.” Taking a detour from his usual route home to willingly talk to someone (other than the occasional homeless lesbian) wasn’t something Nathaniel ever thought he would do, but this afternoon, he found himself walking to a coffee shop so he could talk to his _soulmate_. Assignment. Still. 

 

_I’m ready to start listening._

“Oh,” Neil blinked. “I mean. Oh. Uh— _”_

 

_Yes or no?_

“I can’t tell you everything.”

 

_I’m not asking for that. I thought we agreed on—_

“Having a chance. A choice. Yes,” Neil whispered. “It’s a long, complicated, and fucked up story. It will be filled with holes and things I can’t tell you about. You have to promise not to ask for any other information other than what I’m willing to disclose, and _—_ ”

 

_We could start with something easy._

“What does that mean, exactly?”

 

_You know. The boring shit that normal people ask each other. Favorite music, what you do for fun. That shit._

“Uh. Why don’t you go first? I’ve never really…Talked about _that shit_ before.”

 

_What do you mean, you’ve never talked about that shit before?_

 

“I don’t really…Have? Favorite things? Or do anything for fun.”

 

_Wow. Your life really does fucking suck._

 

“Ha. So funny. Tell me something I don’t know, Dickhead.”

 

_That was the whole point of this conversation, right?_

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

_Okay. I like music. I listen to a lot of Panic! at the Disco—their old shit, not their new shit—and The 1975. I drink a lot of coffee. I only really wear black. I have...Four piercings in one ear, three in the other, and one through my septum, which I did myself. I play exy—_

 

Neil went pale, completely overlooking the goth-kid dramatics once he heard _that_ word. “Exy?” he asked, his voice thin. 

 

_Yeah, exy. Why do you sound like that?_

 

“No reason,” he mumbled, trying to push all the thoughts of his **_father, standing above what used to be a person,_** **_knife in hand, exy court visible in the window behind him_** out of his mind. “What position do you play?”

 

_Goalie. I’m starting with the Foxes in the fall._

 

Okay, that was absurd enough to make Neil forget about blood spreading over cold tile. “You mean the worst team in the NCAA? Do you suck?”

 

_I was offered a spot at Edgar Allen, but I wasn’t about to become a Raven. So no, I don’t suck._

 

Nevermind.

 

_Neil?_

 

**_“Are you familiar with what our Butcher does?”_ **

 

_Can you hear me?_

 

**_“...Have mercy, I’m a father!”_ **

 

_Neil? Are you there?_

 

He didn’t realize he was dissociating until an obnoxious coffee shop patron yelled across the counter, demanding a refund for a _dry-ass motherfucking scone._ “Yeah, yeah, I’m,” Neil nodded. “Here.”

 

_Why do you sound so out-of-breath? And who the fuck is screaming?_

 

Yeah, why did he sound breathless? _Pull it together, Nathaniel. Neil. Fuck._  “Some lady was shitting herself over how dry her scone was, like that isn’t the point of a scone. Anyway, Edgar Allen, huh? They’re the best. It’s amazing to me that someone would say no to them, or that they’d even let you, for that matter. Why didn’t you want to join them?” 

 

_They have no individuality. Exy becomes their lives. I’m not a junkie like those assholes. Why? Do you play or something? Or are you just a fan?_

 

Nathaniel pressed his lips together and willed Neil to come back to him. _Yes. I was a backliner. I played with Riko Moriyama and Kevin Day. I was meant to play for them. I was born for exy and I was born for them and_

 

“Yeah, I’m just a fan,” Neil said. “I watch games when we have cable. I guess that’s one thing I like. I have a favorite pro team. Nashville Sabres.”

 

_Oh, come on. Detroit Dragons._

 

“No way. Their starting goalie is a shithead. He’s always picking fights. It’s like he can’t wait to throw off his gloves and get his hands on someone. The strikers have lazy footwork, too.”

 

_I’m starting to think that you have something against goalies._

 

“I don’t have anything against you. You sound pretty interesting and don’t seem like a completely chaotic dumbass, even if your choice in teams is garbage.”

 

_You have to earn flirting privileges, bitch._

 

“Was that flirting? I was just being honest. I’ve never really—”

 

_Flirted with anyone before? Shame. You have a nice voice._

 

“Was _that_ flirting?” Neil asked, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

 

_Don’t change the subject. That’s rude._

 

“Ah, sorry. I forgot that I have to bow to your every whim to win your affections. Forgive me,” Neil rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face stayed a little longer.

 

_You asked why I decided to join the Foxes._

 

“I thought you said that changing the subject was rude.”

 

_Do you want to know why or not, Neil?_

 

“I have to admit, I am curious.”

 

_My twin brother’s assignment just so happens to live on the other side of the country. They’re greyscale right now. Her parents don’t approve. On top of being a massive cunt in general, his mother liked to enable substance abuse. He was texting his soulmate when he was in the hospital for a near-overdose and her parents found the messages. Anyway, they can’t exactly stop the two of them from being together if they’re at the same school. He and I have a deal. Until he has someone else to take care of him, I’ll make sure he doesn’t fuck himself over again. So, we have athletic scholarships at PSU. I also think it would be fun to piss off Riko by choosing the worst over the best. He needs to have his ass kicked, and I will gladly volunteer._

 

And the smile on Neil’s face was gone. Okay. That was a lot of information to take in all at once. Andrew had a twin. From what he said, Andrew didn’t claim their mother. He was also ridiculously dedicated to what sounded like a dumbass of a sibling. If Andrew was still in California after all these years, that meant that he would be moving literally all the way across the country. Coast to fucking coast. Too close to a place Neil wasn’t a fan of. 

 

But it wasn’t like Neil would ever be in South Carolina with Andrew. Nothing would come of this, long term. It couldn’t. Unless it could. Unless it _did._

 

Apparently, being a fucking dumbass ran in Andrew’s family, because any retaliation against a Moriyama was bound to put a target right on your forehead. Dumbassery must transfer through assignments, Neil thought, because now _he_ was being a giant fucking dumbass. Here he was, talking to someone who was known and wanted by the Ravens. Here he was, thinking of South Carolina and exy and a boy he hardly knew. 

 

“You never told me you had a twin,” Neil replied weakly. 

 

_I didn’t know until after you jumped ship._

 

“So you didn’t grow up together at any point. That explains why you don’t claim his mother.”

 

_So you know how to listen after all. Color me impressed, Neil._

 

“So you’re moving across the country to play exy for the worst college team in the league because your brother can’t control himself?”

 

_That’s what I said. Don’t forget the Riko part. Therein lies the fun._

  


“Right,” Neil huffed, biting down on the back of his tongue. “Fun.” He shook his head. “I didn’t take you for the self-sacrificing type. I also didn’t take you for the total dumbass type, but you’re choosing your brother’s future over your own and asking for a beatdown from exy’s greatest.” 

 

_I didn’t realize you knew everything behind the choices I make, Neil._

 

“You know that’s not what I’m saying.”

 

 _Some people are worth fighting for. Some people are worth fighting._ _Some people don’t have anyone that will fight for them. If someone deserves my help, they’ll have it. If they don’t, they won’t. Simple._

 

“You put an insane amount of emphasis on respect, but only when someone earns it from you personally. Why?”

 

_I know what’s it like to not have a voice. I know what it’s like to not be respected. Are you done questioning my values?_

 

Andrew’s words only opened up more rabbit holes for Neil to tunnel down, but he didn’t want to push Andrew any more that night. From the vagueness of his last answer, it seemed that there was a limit to how much he was willing to reveal, and Neil’s last comment seemed to put him on edge. He didn’t need to have Andrew pissed at him again. “I have a question that isn’t meant to challenge your morals.”

 

_Ask away._

 

“Why did you draw a triangle on your leg the other night? I saw it when I was changing for bed.” 

 

_I gave myself a tattoo. Needed to sketch it first._

 

“You fucking what?”

 

_I gave. Myself. A tat-too._

 

“Are you an edgy goth kid or something?”

 

_Don’t insult me. I’m emo. Not goth. Not scene. Emo._

 

“What’s the difference?”

 

_Look it up._

 

“Fine. Why a triangle?” 

 

_Hitler used to make gay men wear pink triangles on their chests. It was hard for me to come to terms with being gay, even if the universe assigned that identity to me. It would be easier if I weren’t. I don’t care as much, now. So. Triangle._

 

Neil had a feeling there was more to that story than Andrew was willing to tell, too. He knew that Andrew had a string of unfavorable foster parents until he was eventually fostered and adopted by his teacher. Over ten years ago, around the time they first started talking to one another, Andrew had told Neil that he had one foster father in particular who happened to be “very mean.” Neil didn’t like making assumptions about things, but when he couldn’t be sure about something, it was safest to assume the worst case. It might be safe to assume that Andrew’s foster father was one of the reasons he had a hard time dealing with his sexuality. In any case, he was glad that Andrew didn’t care as much about his identity now. 

 

Neil had never given that identity much thought because he never really thought any identity could apply to him. If he had a male soulmate, was he supposed to be gay? He didn’t think he was. He had never been attracted to _anyone_ in the way the other teenagers around him seemed to be. 

 

Talking to Andrew wasn’t just logistically complicated, it seemed. He tended to make Neil feel and think about things.

 

Dangerous.

 

“Makes sense,” Neil said in response, even though he was more confused than ever about all of this _Andrew_ shit. He lifted his coffee mug to his lips to take a sip before he spilled whatever stupid thing his brain decided to push out of his mouth next.

 

_You said that you saw the triangle on your leg when you were getting ready for bed._

 

Andrew didn’t have to say anything else. Yes, Neil’s phone number had a +1 in front of it. Yes, he was back in America and he was in the same time zone as his soulmate.

 

Neil just wanted to do something for himself for a change.

 

“I want to see you.”

 

_Don’t fucking start. You can’t, right? Because it’s too dangerous. Just don’t._

 

“Let me say my piece. I’m stupid. I’m a dumbass. I know. I’ll get that out of the way first. When I first left, I told you that I wished that we could meet. Under what condition?”

 

_That you were safe again._

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I’ve ever been that, and I doubt that I ever will be.”

 

_What are you saying?_

 

“I’m saying that I might as well take a risk. Will you?”

 

\---

 

Andrew knew the risks. He knew that Neil’s father was dangerous enough to run away from and that Neil’s mother would beat the shit out of her own son if she knew he was thinking all of this, let alone planning it. 

 

That didn’t stop Andrew from getting a P.O. box just to send letters to another one of Neil’s alternate identities. That didn’t stop Neil from getting three new numbers with three different area codes in a month. That didn’t stop Andrew from changing his number when Neil requested that he do so. 

 

Neil’s mother would be traveling a few cities over from where they were staying for a night to retrieve some paperwork and have a few monetary things taken care of. Since she seldom left Neil alone, he and Andrew had to act.

 

The reality that they might not ever have another chance wasn’t one they wanted to face. 

 

They would meet inside a busy diner in Reno, Nevada, roughly three and a half hours away from Andrew’s home in Oakland. When Andrew gave Renee the address and told her what he was planning on doing, she volunteered one of Allison’s three cars for his use and refused to let him go alone. If the situation with Neil was as precarious as Andrew made it out to be, they could use the power of Allison’s money and her LA license plate to their advantage. Leave no trace, right?

 

Andrew told Bee that he was going to stay at Allison’s with Renee for a couple of days. She asked no questions and sent him off with a smile. He never blatantly lied to her, but he didn’t want her to worry, and this opportunity was too important to him. 

 

The drive to Allison’s apartment complex was quiet. When Andrew made it past the security gates, Allison and Renee were waiting for him with an iced coffee, a muffin, and a pair of keys. Renee knew him well. He never ate when he was nervous like this. Allison kissed Renee goodbye. Renee got into the driver’s seat of Allison’s BMW. Andrew climbed into the passenger’s side and was forced to promise that he wouldn’t vomit onto the floorboard. 

 

The drive to Reno was worse. He and Neil had decided not to correspond over the phone that day, just in case. They were as safe as they possibly could be, but Andrew still couldn’t stop thinking about everything that could go wrong. He was endangering himself and the people he loved for a ghost of a person. 

 

That didn’t stop him from writing _see you soon_ across his wrist.

 

\---

 

When Nathaniel finally reached Dino’s Diner after a two-mile walk from the nearest bus stop, he made a move to turn on his heel and bolt in the opposite direction. Everything in his body told him to 

 

_run._

 

As soon as he took his first step, he felt his heartbeat thrum in his wrist. He stopped and pulled up the sleeve of his sweatshirt to see three words. Andrew must have been less than a few hundred feet away.

 

For the first time in his life, Nathaniel made the decision to run toward something. 

 

~

 

_what do you look like_

 

_Why?_

 

_i want to know_

 

_Fine._

_I have hazel eyes and blonde hair. It is curly._

_I have freckles. A lot of them._

_Now you._

 

_i don’t look like me right now_

_but right now_ —

 

_~_

 

He ducked into the restaurant, mumbled _shut the fuck up_ at his chest, and lifted his head to look for a boy with curly blonde hair and too many freckles.

 

The first time he met Andrew’s gaze, Nathaniel felt seen. _Neil_ felt seen.

 

He pointed at his wrist and Andrew nodded. 

 

Walking up to the booth where Andrew was sitting was easily one of the top ten most nerve-wracking moments of Neil’s life. Everything about Andrew was intense. Everything about him was a contradiction. His feet hardly touched the floor, but the sleeves of his tee-shirt hugged very defined biceps. He wore black bands from his wrists to his elbows, black jeans, and black boots that looked like they were made solely to intimidate people. In stark contrast to the black he clothed himself in, Andrew’s face was pale, splattered with freckles, and dotted with gold piercings that somehow matched his eyes. _Could people even have eyes that color?_

 

“Neil? Staring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you that i would write andreil eventually ;-)  
> thank you guys so much for being so patient. i've been super busy this summer, but i'm so glad i could get this chapter to you. this was the big hump i needed to get over before the rest of the story will start falling into place. i don't quite know how long it will take me to finish it yet, or how far i want to take it, but i have the general plot in my brain. i just have to get it to you guys :)  
> as always, thanks for reading <3 i always enjoy reading your comments so much and screaming with y'all about how stupid these boys are. let me know what you think!


	12. you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is such a long chapter. strap yourselves in, folks, because it’s real gay panic hours.

He wasn’t what Andrew was expecting. 

 

Andrew expected someone fiery. Someone that looked as sharp as they sounded. Over the month they took to plan this, they talked every day in one form or another. Neil proved to be quick-witted, perceptive, and outspoken. But this?

 

This was _dollar store_ Neil. Like, a _knock-off of the knock-off_ brand Neil.

 

The clothing he wore was simple and too big for him, like he was trying to hide in plain sight. He was cookie-cutter, like he came straight out of a middle school Language Arts textbook: Gray hoodie, dark jeans, and old Converse. Even the duffle bag slung over his shoulder was boring.

 

His gaze was anything but. No one had ever looked at Andrew that way. Like they wanted to take him apart to see his every detail.

 

“Neil? Staring.”

 

“Yeah,” Neil said dumbly, finally sitting down across from Andrew and Renee. 

 

Neil wasn’t supposed to be this quiet.

 

“I’ll go up to the bar and get a milkshake or something. Give you guys some time,” Renee laughed nervously, quickly standing up from the table and walking away a little too quickly to avoid the oppressive awkwardness that had settled there. _Great, there went Andrew’s wingman. Useless._

 

Andrew pursed his lips and pushed an unopened Coke bottle toward Neil. Neil nodded in acknowledgment and appeared to look for any signs of tampering as discreetly as he could. When he thought it was safe enough, he twisted off the cap and took a sip. “So. Andrew,” he started, reaching up to slide off his hood. He had checked his roots that morning at least three times in the mirror for any trace of auburn, but his hair was still pitch black with eyebrows to match. “What did you expect?”

 

Andrew wasn’t expecting him to be pretty under his hood. 

 

 _Fuck._ He was _hot._ If Andrew could dress him… _No, Dobson. Keep it in your pants._

 

“Not this. You look boring as fuck, but I know that you aren’t,” Andrew said, leaning forward a little more to continue scrutinizing him. There was a hint of blue just off the edge of one of Neil’s irises, and closer inspection of the other eye proved that he was definitely wearing contacts.

 

Neil must have realized what Andrew saw because he reached up and moved one contact to the side. Chocolate brown slipped away to reveal ice blue for just a moment. Neil blinked and it was gone. _Another secret, another truth. Just for Andrew._

 

“Still boring?” Neil asked, tapping the toe of Andrew’s boot with the side of his foot. 

 

“Less so,” Andrew admitted. “Your turn. What did you expect?”

 

Neil’s barely-there smile almost knocked Andrew out. “Not this,” he hummed, lifting a finger to point at Andrew. “I knew you were goth—”

 

“Emo, you dick.”

 

“—Emo, sorry. But this? The buckles on your boots have to weigh five pounds.”

 

Andrew raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side. “But don’t they look good?” 

 

Neil gave him another once-over. “You look like you could kick the shit out of me.”

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

“Since we’re being honest today: It is.” 

 

Andrew folded his arms and leaned back a little on his side of the booth. “I like the honest side of you. Do you have any more honesty in you right now?” 

 

Neil guessed he could be a little more honest. Maybe it was just his subconscious continuously screaming _this is your once fucking chance don’t fuck this up_ at him, but he was thinking differently, anyway. He thought Andrew was attractive. He didn’t know why, but he did. So he said it. “I’ve never been attracted to anyone before. I didn’t think I would like the edgy-type if I ever was, but…”

 

“Here you are?”

 

“Here I am,” Neil nodded. “I like your freckles.”

 

“Thanks,” Andrew mumbled, color tinting his cheeks and the tops of his ears. “Good to know I don’t disappoint, at least. I don’t care about pleasing people but…”

 

“Here you are?”

 

“Here I fucking am.”

 

Silence fell over them again as they continued to adjust to one another. Andrew didn’t know what this was supposed to feel like (or if meeting your soulmate for the first time was supposed to feel different at all), but everything around him was heavy, like Neil had this fucked-up gravitational pull or something. 

 

“Do you feel that?” he asked. “Do you feel different?”

 

Neil nodded. “I don’t know if it’s the fact that we’re finally here or if it’s the fact that we’re soulmates.”

 

Andrew didn’t correct him, for once. 

 

Instead, he took a red marker from his pocket and placed his left-hand palm-up on the table, gesturing for Neil to do the same when he didn’t automatically get the hint. He uncapped the marker and drew an X on the pad of his index finger, and in real-time, watched the same red X bleed across Neil’s finger. 

 

“Did you really need to test it?” Neil whispered, holding up that finger and extending his hand to Andrew. “Can I touch you?”

 

It took Andrew a moment to learn how to breathe again, but finally, he matched their marks up. 

 

“You’re real,” Andrew whispered, mostly to himself. “I kind of wish you weren’t, now that I—”

 

“—Know what this feels like,” Neil finished his sentence, letting his hand slip away before he got too overwhelmed. “Do you think we’re just being—”

 

Andrew shook his head. “—Stupid? Probably. But I can’t shake it.”

 

“Yeah,” Neil blushed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Maybe we should...Uh. Order food? Or something. I haven’t eaten yet today.” It felt like the butterflies in his stomach were threatening to eat him alive, so Neil pulled his safety blanket of a duffle bag into his lap and started taking inventory of everything in his mind. _Six shirts, plus the one I’m wearing. Track pants, three pairs of jeans, plus the ones I’m wearing. Socks, underwear, keys. Binder, everything inside. Two boxes of contacts, three left for my left eye, four left for my right. Toothbrush. Deodorant…_

 

“Hello. Earth to Neil. What do you usually eat?” Andrew asked, dropping a flimsy, poorly laminated menu in front of him. “Get whatever you want. I’m buying.”

 

Neil blinked at the menu and then at Andrew. “I can pay for my own.”

 

“Good for you. Did I fucking ask?” Andrew raised an eyebrow. “No. I told you that I was buying.”

 

“Are you trying to make this a date or something?”

 

“Like I would ever date you. Nice try.”

 

“Oh, so you wouldn’t date me. Why not?”

 

“You talk too much or too little. You have no fashion sense. You ask dumb questions.”

 

“What do you consider to be a dumb question?”

 

“The last three questions you asked were all pretty fucking stupid.” Andrew set his menu down and pursed his lips. “What flavor of ice cream do you like? Don’t say strawberry. That shit is disgusting. I want a milkshake and I won’t be able to finish all of it on my own.”

 

Was Andrew flirting with him? Neil couldn't really tell. He didn't really know what that was supposed to look like. “I’m not a fan of sweets, sorry.”

 

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because Andrew looked like someone had just killed his dog in front of him. Well, in a very Andrew way. He just stared and blinked more than usual. “See? I could never date you. No taste.”

 

Neil couldn’t help but smile at that. Andrew was definitely the same person in real life as he was over the phone. “It’s a pity that I came all this way, then.”

 

“It really is. I only said yes to meeting you here because I felt bad for you.” He would have seemed completely serious if it was for the smirk pulling at his lip. “Imagine going your whole life without meeting the asshole the universe assigned you to at birth. It’s probably easier to, but you like being the most complicated fucking person on the planet, don’t you, Neil?”

 

“Of course. I’m a junkie when it comes to finding or doing things that will piss you off.”

 

“Like right now? How you aren’t looking at your menu and you’re sitting here running your mouth?” Andrew asked, standing up from their table and pointing toward the main counter. “Better decide before I decide for you, Junkie. Only so many hours in a day.”

 

Another reminder of just how little time they had together. Neil didn’t know if that was an intentional jab or not, but he felt defensive over it anyway. He couldn’t control how shitty his life was. His existence just happened (or didn’t) and he went along with it, trying to prolong it for reasons he had mostly lost track of along the way. _Mostly. He was a junkie now, after all._

 

“Chicken tenders and fries,” Neil finally said. “And a fuckton of ketchup.”

 

“Respectable choice. Try to think of something interesting to say while I order.”

 

The line to order was moving slowly thanks to the ancient waiter that was scribbling down orders on a notepad and hobbling from the counter to the kitchen window, so Nathaniel had quite a bit of time to think. He came here as Neil, so he made it a point to try to think like Neil and do the things that Neil would do. Neil would take risks, within reason. Neil would make the most of the time that he had instead of hiding away somewhere. 

 

As soon as Andrew sat back down, Neil opened his mouth. “I want to have a day where I can try to forget about everything else but this,” he said, gesturing between himself and Andrew. “I want to go out and do normal people shit, like going to the mall and playing sports and watching movies. Can we do that? I know it might not be interesting for you.”

 

“Shut up. It’s interesting for me because it’s with you,” Andrew sighed, running his hands through his hair as he thought over the things to do that were in the area. “There is a mall here. There’s some normal shit. A rock climbing gym, escape rooms, you know. You like watching exy. There’s a game tonight for their minor league team. It’s just whatever you feel like doing. Renee’s girlfriend Allison is loaded and her family owns some resorts here, so she got us hotel rooms. We could order pizza and watch movies tonight. Normal people shit.”

 

 _Because it’s with you. You like watching exy. Whatever you feel like doing._ Neil blushed. _Jesus Christ, pull it together._ “We can go to the mall. I’ve never been to one. Just supermarkets,” he mumbled, twiddling with a frayed edge of one of his sleeves. “And I want to see an exy game if tickets aren’t too expensive.” Admitting that he _wanted_ something was foreign to  Nathaniel, but he had one day to want things. If he died for enjoying a single day of his teenage life, at least he wouldn’t feel so invisible when he went out. It was stupid to want to be known and remembered and loved by someone. It was stupid to want to spend money on useless things and waste time watching movies. It was stupid to even show up here in the first place.

 

But Nathaniel wanted to be someone. Even if it was just for a day. 

 

“Then we’ll go to the mall and watch a bunch of sweaty people slam each other against plexiglass. Do you still want to stay the night?” Andrew asked, using his finger to scoop up the whipped cream from his milkshake as soon as it was delivered. “We have two rooms, so. You can have your own. Or Renee can have her own. Or you two can stay together if you want to do that for some fucking reason. There are two beds in both rooms.”

 

If Neil didn’t know any better, he would have thought that Andrew looked flustered. “I’ll see how I feel. For all I know, you could be an ax murderer.”

 

“You’re one to talk.”

 

\---

 

“What the fuck is this place?”

 

“Hot Topic.”

 

“Yeah, I can read.”

 

“Congratulations.”

 

“Seriously.”

 

“It’s a store dedicated to the outward expression of teen angst. They sell clothes, accessories, and pop culture shit, mostly,” Andrew explained, picking up a box of hair bleach and turning it over to read the back. 

 

“You’re already blonde. Why would you bleach your hair?” 

 

“If you want to dye your hair a pastel color, it basically has to be platinum.”

 

“So you want to dye your hair a pastel color? Why?”

 

“Do I need to have a reason?”

 

Neil pressed his lips together and shrugged. No, he guessed Andrew didn’t have to have a reason. Instead of answering, he looked through the colors on the display, trying to imagine them on Andrew. _Pink isn’t right. Neither is sky blue. Silver could work, but…_

“This one. It would make your eyes look cool.”

 

Andrew blinked at Neil, cocked his head to one side, and studied his face for a moment. From Neil’s perspective, it seemed like he was trying to tell whether or not Neil was teasing him. Eventually, he picked up a bottle of the hair dye Neil suggested and walked off to the register to pay. 

 

“I’m good at dying hair,” Neil said when Andrew returned to his side. “I could help you.”

 

“So is Renee, if you can’t tell from her rainbow ends. What makes your hair dyeing capabilities so special?” 

 

“I dyed my hair in a car once and used bottled water and hand soap to wash it out. It was three in the morning. Perfect coverage,” Neil smirked. “I may not have conventional talents—”

 

“But you definitely aren’t boring,” Andrew finished. “I’m sold. You can do it tonight.”

 

“Hey, Lovebirds,” Renee groaned from behind them, stepping between them. “I want boba. You in?”

 

“What the fuck is boba?”

 

It was easy for Renee to forget that Neil wasn’t very acquainted with the world since she wasn’t the one that was talking to him. She just got to hear all of the pining and denial. “It’s tea with tapioca pearls in it. It slaps.”

 

“It what?”

 

“Slaps,” Andrew repeated. “That means that it’s good.”

 

“Sorry. Not hip. But yeah, I’m in. We have to ride the carousel after, though. For scientific purposes.”

 

“I like him.” Renee pointed between the two of them. “You have my approval. But hold hands or something already. I know that you both want to, so stop being so fucking cagey and just go for it.”

 

“Wow, the f-word,” Andrew gasped sarcastically. “Someone feels very strongly about this. Too bad it isn’t any of her fucking _business.”_

 

For some reason, Neil reached over and linked his pinky finger with Andrew’s. His touch-starved ass wasn’t about to get any less touch-starved for the rest of his (likely very-short) life.

 

Andrew didn’t acknowledge him, but he didn’t pull away. 

 

That was something. 

 

Andrew was something. 

 

\---

 

“Say something,” Andrew mumbled, bumping Neil’s shoulder with his own. “Or close your mouth.”

 

Neil was sitting just a few rows away from the court floor, painfully close to the plexiglass walls that encased the one thing he ever really loved. The last time he was at a court was the day before his mother took him away. He’d been running ever since. 

 

Nathaniel felt lost. Neil was finally home. 

 

“I’ve just never been to a real game before. It’s sort of unreal,” Neil lied. “I wanted to play backliner when I was younger.”

 

“You don’t have the build,” Andrew said, offering Neil a bite of a shitty soft pretzel he bought at one of the snack-stands inside the stadium. “You have a runner’s body. Striker would suit you if anything.”

 

As if. People like Riko and Kevin were strikers. They were supposed to be at the front lines, fighting and scoring and garnering all the attention.People like Nathaniel were backliners. They were the silent support, the line of defense, and the means to an end. _Neil,_ though. Neil, with his smart mouth, his drive, and his recklessness. Neil could be a striker. 

 

“Maybe,” Neil said through a mouthful of the pretzel. “Not like it matters. I would probably be awful at it.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

Neil hummed noncommittally and turned his attention back to the court just in time to see a striker smack their racquet against the back of another striker’s helmet in a scramble to get the ball. “Is this amateur hour?” he mumbled. “Christ. Did you see that, Andrew?”

 

“Yes or no?” 

 

“What?” Neil furrowed his eyebrows. 

 

Andrew pointed to Neil’s hand. “Yes or no?”

 

Neil frowned. “Is something wrong with my hand? I don’t—”

 

“Do you want to hold my fucking hand or not, dumbass?”

 

_Oh._

 

“Forget it,” Andrew huffed when Neil took a second too long to respond, running his fingers through his hair before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jean jacket.

 

“You didn’t let me answer. You accuse _me_ of being bad at listening but you won’t even attempt to hear what people have to say,” Neil said, gently tugging on Andrew’s sleeve. When Andrew didn’t immediately offer his arm, Neil slid his hand into Andrew’s pocket, grabbed Andrew’s arm by the wrist, and awkwardly went to lace their fingers together. He fucked up on the first try and misaligned them, but after another muttered _dumbass_ from Andrew, they were...Holding hands.

 

“I’ve never held hands with anyone before,” Andrew murmured. “Well, Renee doesn’t count. She has to for some of the spiritual shit she does.”

 

“I heard that, Dobson.”

 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that I was talking to you, Walker. It isn’t polite to eavesdrop.”

 

Renee smiled sweetly despite the fact that she was inconspicuously flipping Andrew off. “I’ll just go back to third-wheeling. Don’t mind me.”

 

Leaning a little closer to whisper in Andrew’s ear made Neil’s stomach flop, but he did it anyway. _What was he, a teenage girl?_ “For the record, I haven’t either.”

 

Their attention shifted back to the game (and to the effort of making snide comments about the players), and finally, just before halftime, the home team scored. It surprised Neil so much that he reflexively gripped Andrew’s hand more tightly, and when he turned to apologize, Andrew was _blushing._

 

“Squeeze my hand like you’re going into labor one more time and I’m never holding your hand again.”

 

Neil smiled before he could stop himself. “Sorry, _Dear.”_

 

“I’m going to kick your ass before today is over, I swear to God.”

 

“If only you were tall enough to reach it.”

 

“I already have a place to hide your body.”

 

“Six feet under?”

 

“Stop talking.”

 

\---

 

“What if he thinks I’m going to try something? What if—”

 

“No. You are going in there and you are spending quality time with your soulmate. I’m staying in my room, you are ordering a pizza for me, and I am going to binge-watch _The Great British Baking Show._ Do I need to remind you of why you shouldn’t be a piss baby right now?”

 

“No.” He didn’t have time. _They_ didn’t have time. “What kind of pizza do you fucking want?”

 

“Hawaiian. With extra cheese and green peppers,” Renee hummed. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

 

“Fuck you,” Andrew called as he walked out of the room. 

 

“You love me!” Renee yelled after him, smiling to herself. As bittersweet as the whole affair was, she was happy that Andrew would get to see and spend time with Neil at least once. She wasn’t about to let him waste time being anxious over it when he could finally act on it. 

 

\---

 

When Nathaniel heard a knock at the door, half of him automatically assumed he had been found and that he’d have to figure out a way to make a run for it. The closest staircase was roughly twenty feet down the hallway to their left. But would that be the best way? What if people were waiting for him on another level?

 

“Junkie. It’s me. Let me the fuck in.”

 

_Oh. Right._

 

“What kind of pizza did you want?” Andrew asked before handing his phone to Neil. “The app is already open, just tap on whatever to add it to the cart.”

 

Neil had seen a few advertisements for things like this, but he’d never actually held a smartphone or ordered pizza from anywhere other than an actual restaurant, let alone from an application. “So I just use the screen? None of the buttons, right?” 

 

“No buttons,” Andrew nodded, stepping in front of Neil to show him how to slide his finger across the screen to navigate. “It’s strange that you don’t know how to use things like this.”

 

“I don’t need to use them. So I don’t,” Neil shrugged. “And I just want normal cheese. How do I get to that?” 

 

“That’s what I want, too, so you can just go to the cart and press the ‘plus’ to add another one. Go ahead and click on the order prompt.”

 

Neil furrowed his eyebrows when something else popped up on the screen. He tried to make it go away, but it just got bigger. “The pizza screen left, Andrew. There’s a thing here from something called Instagram. It’s a private message from Renee. What the fuck is this green thing? It says ‘When Mike Wazowski nods, is he also twerking?’ What does any of that say?”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Andrew sighed, taking the phone away from Neil to order the pizza. “Mike Wazowski is this character from an old kids’ movie. Twerking is a dance where you basically just shake your ass. Since his head is the same thing as his body, as you can see from the illustration, when he nods, he also twerks.”

 

Neil pursed his lips and went to go sit down on one of the beds. “I fucking hate that.”

 

“I’ll be sure to share that sentiment with Renee,” Andrew hummed, walking over to his bag to retrieve his hair-dyeing supplies. “Still want to help?” 

 

Neil put his hands up for Andrew to throw him the box of bleach. “Go change into something you don’t care about or at least find a towel. “I’ll mix the developer and meet you in the bathroom.”

 

\---

 

“Pizza me.”

 

Andrew held the piece of pizza in his hand over his shoulder so that Neil could eat while he was brushing globs of lavender dye through Andrew’s curls. “What do you say, Your Highness?”

 

“I’m dying your hair for you. Isn’t that payment enough?”

 

“Guess I’ll just have to eat both of these pizzas by myself…”

 

 _“Thank you,”_ Neil cooed, leaning over slightly so he could take a bite. “You know, your hair is harder to dye because of how curly it is. I think you should be thanking me.”

 

“You are so goddamn demanding for someone who keeps literally everything he owns in one bag, you know that?” Andrew turned just so he could look Neil in the eyes as he ate part of Neil’s slice of pizza, continuing to talk with his mouth full. “Have some respect. I bought you lunch _and_ dinner and you can’t even earnestly say thank you. I am such a good assignment. I don’t deserve this. You’re a fucking fiend.”

 

Neil smirked. “Sorry, I don’t respect people who can’t say things like they are. Maybe you’ve just forgotten the word. It must be hard remembering literally everything. _Soulmate._ Not assignment. Say it with me on three. One, two—”

 

“Bitch,” Andrew said on three. “I think I got it right that time. I’m 99 percent sure.”

 

“Wouldn’t it be fun if I left blonde patches all over your head?”

 

“You know, I don’t get all this ‘meeting your soulmate’ for the first time hype. It’s exhausting.”

 

“Soulmate?”

 

“Slip of the tongue.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it makes too much sense,” Andrew shrugged. “I don’t get along with people.”

 

“But we get along,” Neil guessed. “I haven’t had a friend in almost a decade. The closest person to me other than my mother was a homeless and alcoholic lesbian in the last city I traveled through. I don’t let people in.”

 

“Then what are you doing with me?”

 

“I have no idea what I’m doing, to be honest. I just know that I’m doing what I want for once in my life.”

 

Whatever look that crossed Andrew’s face wasn’t one Neil expected to see. His usually stoic expression transformed into something significantly softer. “I don’t know what you’ve gone through and I doubt I ever will, but you need to hear this. I’m not going to say it again, so you have to listen. You may have to comply, for now, but you have to figure out who Neil is and you cannot let him go,” Andrew whispered. “I know who Neil is. I know that you want to be Neil. You can’t take whatever comes next lying down and let him fade away. You have to find something else to live for other than your _This-Is-All-I-Know_ shit because now you finally know something else.”

 

Neil sighed and smoothed over the last layer of Andrew’s hair before standing up and walking to the trash can to throw away his disposable gloves. “You were there for me for six years. You were my best friend. When I was young, I used to pretend that you were listening to me, so I read all of my books out loud because I knew how much you liked to read. When I stopped talking to you, it was because something bad happened. My mother still blames me for it. She found out that I had talked to you and told me that you couldn’t be trusted and that even if you could be, you were nothing more than a distraction. I believed her. I didn’t start talking to you again until she started letting me out of her sight. She’s not the person she used to be. Her paranoia is only getting worse. I'm constantly having to change my face and my name. I have never been able to be my own person. I have lived as 21 different people in 21 different cities all across the world. But I have never stopped thinking of you.”

 

“What are you trying to say?” 

 

“I’ve always had something to hold onto. _Someone._  I wasn’t in a position to be there for you and I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know what this is, and I don’t know if anything will ever come of it, but I do know that I’m here with you today and that I won’t want to leave tomorrow,” Neil said, sitting back down on the bed next to Andrew. “I won’t let all of this trouble mean nothing.”

 

Andrew reached for Neil’s hand and took it. “I won’t let you let it mean nothing.”

 

\---

 

“Your hair matches that guy’s.”

 

“You mean Sulley? The main character that we have already known for an hour?” Andrew asked as he walked out of the bathroom. When he was done drying off the freshly-washed shock of lavender atop his head, he threw his wet towel at Neil. 

 

“I think it suits you better,” Neil said, calmly dropping the towel off the other side of the bed he as sitting on. 

 

“Thank you for saying that I look better than a giant, absurd, blue and purple monster from a children’s movie,” Andrew rolled his eyes. “Your attempts to woo me are only getting stronger.”

 

When Andrew reached the bed, he purposefully sat directly in front of Neil to block his view of the television, and Neil, who hadn’t been paying attention to the movie anyway, just started playing with Andrew’s hair instead. 

 

“I thought you were done dyeing my hair,” Andrew mumbled after a few minutes. Neil noticed that he looked significantly more relaxed than he usually did, and he was _definitely_ leaning backward into Neil’s touch. 

 

“Just keeping myself busy,” Neil shrugged. “Not too big on supporting capitalism centered around harnessing the power of the screams of horrified children.”

 

“I’m not complaining, but you’re going to make me fall asleep. I wasn’t planning on sleeping,” Andrew said, reluctantly turning around to face Neil. “There are more exciting ways to keep yourself busy.”

 

“Is this another one of those times where you’re hinting at something that I definitely will not pick up on?” Neil blinked. “Because that’s the face you made last time.”

 

“This is my _I-Can’t-Believe-I-Got-Assigned-To-Your-Dumb-Ass_ face. It really doesn’t speak well of you that you’ve come to recognize it so quickly.”

 

“Save me the trouble and give me a hint or something,” Neil complained. “It took thirty minutes, two questions, and you calling me a dumbass for me to understand that you wanted to hold my hand.”

 

“Kiss me.”

 

 _Oh._ “I’ve never—”

“Yes or no, Neil?”

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> neil has three words in his vocabulary: what, fuck, and oh. 
> 
> i hope the shift in names between nathaniel and neil makes sense—it’s sorta a stylistic thing. i wanted to show when the different parts of neil/nathaniel are coming together or creating huge differences. 
> 
> also i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again. they invented love 
> 
> also also this is a clusterfuck and i was too tired to properly proofread it so yell at me if there are any annoying mistakes 
> 
> thanks for reading <3 lmk how you liked it!


	13. someday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for non-detailed intimacy!

Andrew Dobson had never believed in God. Not as a child, not as a pubescent teen, and definitely not as a legal adult in the States. The idea of something bigger than him? Maybe. Something like the _human experience_ or _fate_ or maybe the providence of whatever was floating around in the universe itself. 

 

When he kissed Neil for the first time, he nearly changed his mind. How could anything be so earth-shatteringly perfect without someone or something dictating its existence? He couldn’t remember how long they’d been kissing, at this point, but Neil was underneath him and kissing him back just as softly and sweetly as he did when their lips met for the first time. Neil wanted this just as much as he did and Andrew could _feel_ it. They were connected by whatever the fuck soulmates are connected by, of course, but Andrew felt like they were sharing the same oxygen, the same pace, the same moment. Just like all of the movies and novels and songs and wives tales Andrew didn’t believe in said, they were ideal complements for one another. He didn’t want to think about losing _this_ , so he let himself get lost instead. When he kissed Neil harder, Neil kissed him back. 

 

They had mentioned the possibility of more to one another. They were both too embarrassed to talk about it in any kind of detail, so the possibility was all they had _really_ agreed on. 

 

_I didn’t want you to think I was just trying to get laid._

 

_I know, Andrew. Yes._

 

With every murmured question, they moved closer together until there was no end of Andrew or start of Neil.

 

Afterward, when Neil was curled up against his chest, Andrew Dobson decided that Neil was God. No other explanation could describe how intensely he made Andrew feel. Neil was the tightness in Andrew’s chest and the butterflies in his stomach and the shudders that ran down his spine. If Andrew believed in anything, he believed in whatever _this_ was. 

 

\---

 

“What would you do with your life if you could do anything, Andrew?”

 

Andrew already knew his answer, but he pretended to think anyway. “I want to work with kids. I never want a child to feel the way I felt before Bee adopted me. I’m thinking about majoring in Criminal Justice. Maybe Social Work. What about you?”

 

That answer didn’t surprise Neil at all. Andrew cared a lot about the people he loved, almost to a fault. He resented worth resenting. It only made sense that he would want to help others, even if his brand of kindness was rough. Neil tried not to think about his own future very much. Daring to dream of one was nice sometimes, but he was often reminded of the expiration date tattooed all over his body through the scars that had been inflicted upon him over the course of his life. He knew his answer, though. “I would play professional exy. I lied to you over the phone. As soon as I could hold a racquet, I was playing. There are people that don’t need to know that I ever played, so I didn’t want to say that. I played up until the day before my mother and I started running. It’s the only thing I’ve ever cared about. Until now, that is,” he mumbled, tilting his head upward to gently kiss Andrew’s jaw. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

 

“I know that you lie,” Andrew sighed, absentmindedly threading his fingers through Neil’s hair. “But I also know that you wouldn’t lie to me without reason.” With his free hand, he reached to place a finger under Neil’s chin and met Neil’s gaze. “For some fucking reason, I trusted you enough to do this. You didn’t let me down.” In response, Neil surged up to press a kiss to his lips, and Andrew couldn’t wipe the stupid Neil-induced smile off his face. “Dumbass.”

 

“You like it. I like that you like it,” Neil cooed, stealing one more kiss before Andrew could complain again. “Speaking of liking things, I wasn’t done monologuing. I wouldn’t just play exy. I think that if I could do anything, I would just want to be a person.”

 

“You are a person. You’re Neil,” Andrew said, like it was that simple. Maybe it was.

 

Neil thought about that for a moment before finally nodding. “Yeah. I’m Neil.”

 

\---

 

Neil had never had to say goodbye to someone before. 

 

He quickly found out that he wasn’t fond of goodbyes at all. 

 

Andrew sat with him at the bus stop for a long time, Neil’s duffle sitting atop their laps to hide the fact that they were holding hands underneath it. There wasn’t a point in asking if they could ever see one another again. They would never know whether or not they could until another opportunity presented itself, if one ever did. Neil closed his eyes and tried to focus on the feeling of Andrew’s hand in his own, calluses and all. “I’ll miss you.”

 

“Don’t say shit like that,” Andrew whispered. “You’ll only make it worse.”

 

Neil accepted that and tried not to listen to the station clock that was ticking above their heads. He tried not to think of the fact that they probably only had a few minutes left together. He tried not to think of how warm Andrew was when they held one another or how soft Andrew’s lips felt on his skin or how quiet Andrew’s voice was when they talked in the early hours of the morning. But it was true. He would miss Andrew. Something crawled out of his heart and up into his throat, threatening to choke him as he sat there. It reminded him that he would, more than likely, only ever be waiting for Neil’s life to end. Nathaniel hadn’t cried since he killed someone for the first time and got shot in the process. He wanted to. He wanted to cry for Neil, who was everything he wanted to be but couldn’t be. He wanted to cry for Andrew, who was everything he wanted but couldn’t have.

 

He didn’t cry. He sat next to Andrew until his bus stopped at the curb.

 

Andrew stood. Neil didn’t.

 

Andrew pulled him to his feet. Neil stared down at them.

 

Andrew made Neil look at him. 

 

“Remember this. Remember Neil,” Andrew whispered.

 

He kissed Neil with enough force to push all the air out of Neil’s lungs and walked away.

 

He didn’t look back.

 

Neil stared at the back of Andrew’s head until he got back in the car with Renee.

 

Going, going.

 

Gone.

 

\---

 

On the bus ride home, Nathaniel shoved his hands into the pocket at the front of his hoodie, thinking that if he held his own hand where he couldn’t see it, it might feel like Andrew’s. That was stupid. He was stupid. He―

 

What?

 

Something brushed against his finger once he let his hands settle. It felt like a tag or something, but he didn’t remember there being a tag in that part of his hoodie. He frowned and pulled on it, and it easily came out of his pocket.

 

The tag was attached to a bracelet. It seemed to be homemade.

 

The bracelet was the same color as the blue magic marker Nathaniel had first written to Andrew with.

 

_I have a matching one. It’s red. I assume you can figure out what the colors mean._

_Love, A_

 

_\---_

 

**_Does that mean you love me?_ **

 

**_I will someday._ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry ok what did you expect though
> 
> i know this chapter was short but it felt like something that needed to be self-contained. it's grossly intimate and based on feelings and i wanted to give it justice as sides of both andrew and neil that we haven't been familiar with so far. 
> 
> anyway, i love them so fucking much.
> 
> thanks for reading <3
> 
> updated note: also--just realized this is chapter 13. fitting that this is an unlucky chapter :')


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